I never thought my plan was going to work, but here we are, a room full of people and I was scared shitless. I had prepared myself for about ten to fifteen people, not for the sixty people who showed up. Most people made comments on how I wrote everything down and now here they were, sitting in the audience. They had low-key been making fun of me for years and now here they were, wanting to know how I had become successful.
“The goal here today is to get everyone started on their new life. We don’t have much in a way of starting except for pens and notebooks. Welcome to Journal Club. The only place you can get away with murder.”
As I went on to talk about the basic idea of Journal Club, some eyes started to glaze while others seemed to stay interested. The one set of eyes that seemed to be hyper focused on what I was talking about was coming from was one man in the back. He looked slightly familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember who he was or where I knew him from. The longer he stared, the more nervous I became. When he finally smiled it me, everything came rushing back. I knew he was the only one who could frame me and the only one who could send me to jail for life. All I could do was write about his part in the murder.
Standing Room Only 