[ WP ] One normal day you see a mouse pointer move across your field of vision , right click , and delete an object .

Coming a little late to the party, but I really liked this prompt when I saw it! 
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 “ Mr. Lipnicky, ” the lawyer for the prosecution said, his voice ringing through the otherwise silent courtroom, “ I will ask you once again, and I will remind you that you are in a *court of law*, so this time I want a straight answer, do you hear me? ” The lawyer finished speaking and looked at me expectantly from behind his narrow-framed glasses. His left hand was holding a pen that his awkwardly short fingers were twirling impatiently. 
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 “ Well? ” he said again, his voice almost cracking with impatience. 
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 “ Well… what? ” I asked, stupidly, my eyes fixed on the small white arrow that was hovering, almost sarcastically, just above the lawyer ’ s right eyebrow. 
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 “ Your honor… ” the lawyer pleaded exasperatedly, as he turned to the judge for assistance. 
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 “ Mr. Lipnicky ”, the judge started, and I turned my head to face the judge; not because she had called my name, but because the white arrow that had been silently occupying the rather vast forehead space between the lawyer ’ s eyebrow and considerably receding hairline had zipped swiftly across the courtroom and was now waiting, suspended in thin air in front of the judge and above a thin, black marble plaque that was placed on her desk reading, “ Honorable Alexis P. Brown, District Court ”. 
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 “ Mr. Lipnicky, ” Judge Brown continued, “ Mr. Rosenblat has asked you the same question three times, ” the white arrow slid down over Judge Brown ’ s plaque and there was a faint clicking noise, “ and you have yet to give a serious answer. If you continue to obstruct the proceedings, I am going to hold you in contempt of court, ” Judge Brown ’ s plaque rose into the air, dangling, as if it were being pulled towards the ceiling by an invisible string, “ do you understand me, Mr. Lipnicky? ” 
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 I blinked my eyes and shook my head, trying to refocus on the judge, instead of her specter plaque, that continued to hover several inches above the bench. “ Um, I ’ m really sorry, and I ’ m not trying to be funny, really I ’ m not, but I *didn ’ t* remove Ms. Dougherty ’ s front door! It just, sort of… ” 
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 “ Disappeared? ” the prosecutor offered, sarcastically. “ Mr. Lipnicky, ” Judge Brown said, “ you are here today because you have been charged with misdemeanor breaking and entering into the private residence of Ms. Lauren Dougherty, and with the theft of her front door. Do you deny the validity of these charges? ” 
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 “ Yes! ” I blurted, as Judge Brown ’ s plaque dropped to its former place on the desk with a clatter. The white arrow, apparently bored with inanimate objects, slipped across the courtroom again and stopped on the chest of Jared Lipnicky, my lawyer, and my brother. There was another faint clicking sound, and a dropdown menu appeared out of thin air in front of my brother, obstructing his face. “ Like I said before, ” I continued, keeping my eyes fixed on where my brother was seated, “ I was not breaking into Ms. Dougherty ’ s house! ” 
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 “ So you ’ re denying your presence in the Dougherty residence at 5:43pm on April the 12th? ” said the prosecutor. 
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 “ No, I was there. ” I responded. 
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 “ So then you ’ re saying that you were invited? ” the prosecutor said, procuring a few chuckles from the other people in the room. 
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 “ No! Of course not! I don ’ t even *know* Lauren Dougherty! ” 
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 “ So you admit it! You stole her door and broke into her residence. ” 
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 The white arrow had now shapeshifted into a small, white-gloved hand, its pointer finger extended as it slowly made its way down the different options of the dropdown menu. “ I… I didn ’ t steal her door, ” I managed to say, “ I was riding my bike home from the office, and as I turned onto West 21st Street, I saw… I saw… ” I trailed off, knowing how ridiculous I was about to sound. 
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 “ What? ” inquired Judge Brown, “ What did you see? ” 
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 “ Well… it was like… a cursor, like for a computer, you know? ” The courtroom was so quiet, I could almost hear the neurons firing in everyone ’ s brains, trying to figure out whether I was insane or just an idiot burglar. 
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 “ A… what? ” the prosecutor said incredulously, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses in confused disbelief. Judge Brown, who had picked up her gavel in preparation for what she assumed would be an uproar in the court, had set it down gently, and was now staring at me, one eyebrow raised, with a mixture of shock, concern, and anger. 
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 “ A cursor. ” I stated again, this time with more confidence. I sat up straight in my chair on the stand and continued, taking my eyes off of my brother and the drop menu for a moment to look at Judge Brown in the eye. “ I saw a little white computer cursor - a mouse pointer - appear from the peripheral vision on my left side, zoom in front of me and across the road, right click on Lauren Dougherty ’ s door, select the trash can icon, and delete it. Poof. Gone. The door was just… just gone. ” Everyone in the courtroom was staring at me, gaping. “ I nearly crashed my bike if I ’ m being honest, but I managed to press the breaks before running into anything, and I ran across the street to go see if I had really just seen a door disappear. I walked through the entrance way and into Ms. Dougherty ’ s house. She saw me, got scared, called the police, and when they showed up I told them that the door disappeared and that I wasn ’ t a robber. They didn ’ t believe me… obviously. ” 
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 I sat back in my chair, took in a deep, deep breath, and then released it. I allowed myself to look away from the Judge Brown, and briefly scanned the courtroom of dropped jaws and wide eyes before finally returning my gaze to my brother and the drop down menu. The cursor was moving again, slowly, as if it were knowingly trying to create nervous anticipation. 
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 “ A cursor. ” Judge Brown repeated, finally breaking the silence in the courtroom. “ Yes. ” I responded, sweat beginning to bead up on my forehead and nose. “ A cursor… for a computer. ” Judge Brown said, testing each word warily as it came from her mouth. “ Yes. ” I answered again, breathlessly. I was gripping the arms of the wooden chair on the witness stand. The cursor continued to move down the dropdown menu, slowly, slowly. 
 
 “ And then, this… *cursor*, ” the judge continued, appearing to taste something fowl as the word “ cursor ” moved past her lips, “ this cursor, right-clicked the door of Ms. Dougherty, and deleted it, and then the door just… disappeared? ” The Judge finished speaking, but her mouth remained slightly open, as if she weren ’ t sure if she wanted to continue talking, or allow me to respond. 
 “ *Yes*. ” I said for a third time. My undershirt was soaked with sweat, and my heart was racing; the cursor had made its selection. “ Yes, your honor, that ’ s what happened… and I think it ’ s about to happen again. ” I said. 
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 Then I heard a faint clicking sound. 
 
 

