The silence after the verdict

I was in court today, and the judge read the ruling—just two sentences. After that, the clerk didn’t move for a full minute. Not typing. Not looking up. Just sitting there, hands folded, like he’d forgotten how to breathe. I’ve seen this before: not the loss, but the stillness afterward. The way the room holds its breath when belief gives up. It’s not about the outcome. It’s about what gets left behind when the argument ends.