‘Mr. Martens?’

Harold Martens started, momentarily lost in his thoughts. ‘Yes?’

The questioner’s tone hardened. ‘Could talk us through the operation from your perspective? Why you did what you did? For Mrs. Golding.’

‘Golding?’ Left knee. Impact damage. Reconstruction. He could visualize the woman’s joint but nothing else about her.’

‘Well?’

‘Did I do something?’

‘Are you saying Mrs Golding’s death was caused by someone else? A colleague, divine interference?’

Horrible man, using that tone. Funny that knee, though. It was exactly so like that cave he and Jim used to…’

‘If you prefer I will take you through what we have heard. You were her surgeon, you carried out the surgery, you determined the treatment plan…’

They never planned those trips. Jim would call and off they’d go. If they’d planned they might have thought about the rain, the risk of a flood…

‘Mr Martens, please concentrate.  When the mistake was…’

‘Objection!’

No one ever objected, back then. They went where they wanted, just the two of them…

‘And then we come to the hemorrhage. The nub. Suddenly there was a tsunami of blood. Wasn’t that how we have heard it described?’

A flood of blood? Certainly a flood and blood. Really funny, that knee, how he thought about that cave. If he’d grabbed the knife, cut the rope, Jim would have been ok. At least he’d done it this time. Jim wouldn’t have been caught. He could have swum…’

‘Witnesses have testified that you prevented them from staunching the flow, after you severed the femoral artery. Had you not done so then a disaster might not have become a tragedy. I think it would be good of you could explain exactly why you did what you did?’

‘Jim. For Jim.’ Harold smiled at the man.

Microcosms prompt this week asked for a story incorporating these elements: Surgeon, courtroom, drama