The Courtroom Again

The room unfolded before Gloria's eyes like a muted canvas, bearing the scars of time and neglect. The beige, worn-out paint clung to the walls, its color dulled and weary. Each brushstroke seemed to echo a tale of indifference, a room left in the shadows of grandeur.

The sparse furnishings mirrored the room's simplicity. Two single-sized beds stood as silent witnesses at opposite ends, their frames showing signs of wear and tear. The bareness of the space heightened the sense of abandonment. A worn-out wooden table, bearing the weight of forgotten moments, occupied the center. Its surface, etched with faint scratches and stains, held the memory of countless stories left unsaid.

Upon closer inspection, Gloria's eyes honed in on a small cabinet attached underneath the worn-out wooden table. With a hesitant hand, she reached for the tarnished handle, pulling the door open to unveil its meager contents.