Court

We waited, wearing our nicest Christmas dresses, knees shaking and new shoes drumming the bland tile floor. The small curly haired woman in heels took my hand and guided me from my mother and sister to a closet-like room filled with towering men with greasy black hair. I took my seat where the smiling lady pointed before leaving the room. the chair was brown and puffy and too tall for my feet to touch the floor.
the judge sat to my right. He was an old man with grey/white wispy fuzz for hair and a smile that made his wrinkles giggle. I liked this old man, and I wished he would be my grandpa's grandpa. He sat calmly and gave me warmth, while the greasy men threw questions at me.
The questions started out normal, but then developed a twist. They asked me my name, how old I was, who my parents were and other family members. Then, they asked about Santa and the Easter Bunny, assessing my credibility as a seven-year-old.
After clarifying that Santa was real and the Easter Bunny was his friend, the ugliest of the middle aged men delivered a look of satisfaction and dismissed me to the curly haired lady. When we reached my mother and sister again, I dropped my heart on the tile floor and choked on my tears. The menacing lawyers were mean and hated me and stole so much time; I would not be able to make it back to school in time for recess. My mom softly picked me up and carried me to our broken-down red van. She bought me a sundae from McDonald's, took me home, and played the piano for me. I was told school was over already, but it was still morning when we got home. I didn't mind.