The first thing one notices is the chair. Comprised entirely of straight lines with minimal upholstery, it’s a chair designed for utility rather than comfort. On the seat is a device like a small heating pad on which I’m asked to sit and, in the polygrapher’s words, "take it easy," though neither of us believes…
In 2011 the author was sentenced to twelve years in federal prison for downloading child pornography. He was released in 2021 and now resides in Texas. For more than a decade he has written extensively about his experiences as a defendant, prisoner, and as an ex-felon and registered sex offender reentering society.
Clark smiled broadly, which was unusual for Clark. Prone to anxiety and depression, he often sat through our weekly sex offender treatment sessions wearing an exhausted, dour expression, as though his life were coming to an end and he’d sooner sleep through the last dreadful bits. But today he smiled—it was a rather handsome smile—and…
A flicker in the bottom corner of my eye, too quick to identify but slow enough to determine speed and direction. It’s source: the dried goods shelf where oyster and hoisin sauce cans are stacked in rows; it’s destination: the small, irregular hole at the baseboard behind the stove. Unperturbed, I continued sliding blocks of…
My neighbor died the day I moved into my apartment. This I learned from another neighbor, Dillan, who lives three doors down. She’d went by Charlie, he said, and added that she’d been very old, nearly ninety, and in poor health. She’d had a cat. This I learned not from Dillan but surmised myself from…
In Mississippi our routine was to walk the track weekend mornings. It was on one of these walks that Cisco and I invented the game. "That one there," I’d say pointing to a lone figure sitting on the empty soccer field, his back against a goal post. Cisco would squint and consider for a moment…
Tonight’s guest pastors were Nancy and Joe Taylor. They come on the first Sunday of every month to preach at the Federal Correctional Complex where I’m assigned (or "Faith Community Church" as the inmates say). Mrs. Taylor is a small, domineering woman in her late fifties with gold-framed glasses and stiff hair. Her husband of…
On the first day of class we played a game. "It’s not a game," said Mrs. Eller. "It’s an activity." Games are for little kids. She handed us each a blank slip of paper and had us push our chairs into a circle. Imagine you are free, she said. Twenty-four dark faces stared at her.…