The Pouch Around His Neck
James’s trembling fingers disappeared beneath his torn shirt collar.
The entire courtroom watched in silence.
Even Judge Robinson leaned forward slightly.
Slowly, carefully, James pulled a thin leather cord over his head. Hanging from it was a small weathered pouch, darkened by sweat, age, and time. The leather looked fifty years old. Maybe more.
His …
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
