Flawed

As we’re walking by Carrick’s cell, something, a flash of color, attracts my notice. I don’t hear anything because the glass is soundproof, but I see it in the corner of my eye. I stop walking and look to see a tray of food fall from the window to the ground, cups and saucers and food lying in tatters on the floor of his cell. Behind it is an angry Carrick, the one responsible for firing it directly at my head, his face twisted in anger and aggression.

I’m stunned. It was clearly aimed at me, but I can’t figure out what I’ve done.