Prison pondering I'm climbing out from under a loft bed, climbing across a huge mound of blankets and pillows. I'm thinking about a guy in prison I'll be seeing later in the day. He's supposed to be in for thirty years, but people have been trying to convince him that he's only been in for twenty and that he's in for a total of forty, and he's going to ask me to tell him what I know. I'm not sure how I'll respond. I start thinking about what I'd do if I were in prison for forty years. I can't imagine the despair and hopelessness one must feel. I finally extricate myself from under the bed and walk around it.
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