Adam Dialectical Journal

“Nervous?”
“Very,” Adam replies honestly.

“Will I be alright on my own?” Adam asks.
His mentor turns to Adam. “If you do as I say, you’ll be fine.”

In all of the entirety of Adam’s life did he not expect to be stood meekly on stage expected to act out scenarios on-spot. The unpredictability of the situation made Adam feel plenty like a marionette; putty in someone else’s hands with no control. To say it was intimidating would be an understatement, but to say it would be effortless would be a sin.
Adam has never been one to improvise, to be his own leader. Adam was always a follower; continuously following his mentor’s footsteps, and hanging onto every word of his like the very fate of his life lied between the crevice of his words. And to be thrust into a situation in which the very idea of it is

Her words don’t sound hesitant – tone sounding just like any ordinary line. The words don’t appear immoral as they flow from her mouth. He prays the cough he forces masks the indifference he feels, eyes frantically searching for the man in white.
“APOLOGISE” the card orders him.
Adam faces Eve, facial expression painted of faux remorse. He takes her hand between his, lacing through painted fingers in mock romance.
“My dear wife,” voice dripping sweetness, “I’ve wronged you. My hands have laid bare upon a nobody’s figure but –”
“UGH!” the judge yells, disgust revibrating through the walls of the set.
“Must you make everything so moral?” the judge whines, clicking his tongue, “it’s boring.”
“You – you want me to lie?” Adam asks, bewildered at the direct boldness of such a man.
“It isn’t lying,” he replies, incisors peeking from his grin, “it’s simply withholding the truth in good purpose.”
Adam preens, unknowingly taking a step backward in shock at the audacity of such a man. “This – this is immoral and wrong.”
The judge sighs in a show of dismay, “Sometimes you have to lie for things to work out in your