Chow time is coming to an end. The entire canteen is getting ready to go to the yard. The Aryan Comrades line
Chow-time is developing in the canteen. Every inmate is on their guard. They walk by each other and say no
I have to confess that I am not the best writer. I try to write about what my imagination creates.
Two weeks pass, and the prison has unruffled. Each prisoner is being escorted back to their newly rearranged cellblocks. On
Tom: Mom, what’s for dinner? Mom washing dishes. Mom: [sigh] I don’t know, Tom. Ask your father. Tom walks into