Lifestyles of the poor and nameless
Sunday, November 28, 2004 at 11:46 PM
Writing Sample
In exactly ten minutes the guards will come barreling down the hallway, banging their clubs against the iron bars that have been my home for the past seven years. I have been in the custody of the Harris County Correctional Facility for 2,565 days; Yesterday was my 33rd birthday. If I am lucky, I will be here on my 73rd. If I am not so lucky, I will be turned over to a North Carolina State maximum security penitentiary where I will serve the rest of my 55-year sentence.
These are my last moments before daybreak comes and the facility is teeming with activity. Pardon me while I get on my knees and speak to my Creator.
ONE
At 7:15am I reach under my metal slab of a cot and take out my last bar of Ambi Cocoa Butter Soap. This, along with my Coconut-scented body lotion from Bath & Body Works, is all that remains of the life I left behind. I allow myself to quickly inhale the rich sent of the Coconut lotion and instantaneously I am transported to that day:
7:15am, March 23, 2001. I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock for the second time that morning and contemplate taking off from work today. At 7:20 the clock goes off again and I postpone the sick day to some undetermined point in the future. I get out of bed and go to the window. The sunrise was always breathtaking from my Penthouse apartment on the upper east side of Manhattan. On those rare weekends we were able to be together, my boyfriend Shawn and I liked to watch the sunrise. Recently Shawn had taken to watching the sunrise with someone else. I wonder if the sunrise was as picturesque for him this morning from his 10th story hospital window. F--- him and the sunrise. I draw the curtain and abruptly turn towards the bathroom.
I turn on the shower and start peeling out of my clothes as the fog begins to cloud the mirror.
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