Aposiopesis
The courtroom was silent, the kind of silence that feels heavy, like humid air before a storm. Elias sat in the witness stand, his knuckles white as he gripped the wooden railing. Across the room, the man in the dark suit—the man who had changed everything that summer night—stared at him with eyes like cold glass.
He stopped. His jaw tightened, and he looked down at his shaking hands. "Like what, Mr. Vance?" the prosecutor prompted gently. aposiopesis
The prosecutor stepped forward. "Mr. Vance, please tell the court what happened when you opened the basement door." The courtroom was silent, the kind of silence
