To the low heels.
To the courthouse folder tucked securely beneath my arm.
“You’ve been hanging around this parking lot for quite a while.”
I blinked.
“I walked out of the store less than a minute ago.”
“Don’t get smart.”
My name is Evelyn Monroe.
And earlier that morning, the United States Senate had officially confirmed me as a federal judge for the Western District of Texas.
But standing in that parking lot, none of that seemed to matter.
I wasn’t treated like a judge.
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