Justice for George?

Since reading those four words I’ve been holding my breath.

Holding my breath for a man who was denied his own.

Holding my breath to keep from screaming louder than the anticipatory, menacing sirens driving by.

Holding my breath in an attempt to still the air that the police choppers tear through outside my window.

Holding my breath and hoping.

Holding my breath and trying not to hope too hard, because I know the disappointment could knock the breath right out of me.

Holding my breath and praying.

Holding my breath and waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

It only took four words to render me unable to breathe.

“The verdict is in.”