Questions overlapped, loud and rapid, but Ezekiel didn't stop. He didn't rush, either. He walked at a steady, unhurried pace, his expression entirely unreadable, no anger, no triumph, no hint of what lay beneath the surface.
He didn't answer a single one of them, yet his silence spoke louder than any reply ever could.
Reporters kept pace at his sides, shouting over one another, desperate for even a single word or a flicker of reaction. "What are your thoughts on the verdict?" "Were you really framed all this time?" "How does it feel to be vindicated?" But he moved through the crowd like water slipping through fingers, unimpeded, leaving them behind as he headed straight for the official transport idling at the curb.
Everything changed that day.
