Madame Juror.

The relentless drizzle of rain mirrored my mood, cold and seeping into everything.
"Isabel, must we?" I sighed, pulling my coat tighter against the biting wind.
My sister, ever practical, simply raised an eyebrow. "You know we must, Allie. Besides, it's good for you to get out."
'Good for me' usually meant an endless parade of shops, each one a fresh hell of indecision for Isabel. We were slogging through the crowded street, past the familiar police court, when a sudden commotion erupted. Three men burst from the building, arguing with a ferocity that seemed utterly disproportionate to their words.
"We can't have eleven jurors!" one exclaimed, his voice tight with frustration. Another, muffled by a thick wool scarf, bumped into Isabel as he gestured wildly.
"Sorry, madam... Miss Winter!" he cried, his eyes widening in recognition. Then, he turned to me, a sudden light of realization in his gaze.
"Allie!" he exclaimed again.
I sighed. "Chief Inspector Barnes." This was going to be a long day.
