26
Time passed slowly on the jail ship. Every day it was the same.
Early morning alarm. Smoke yawned and waited for the cell doors to open.
Showers. Smoke washed himself with a constant eye on the others.
Breakfast. Smoke ate huddled in the corner and no one would sit within fifty feet of him.
Morning activity. Weightlifting.
Lunch.
Afternoon activity. Weightlifting.
Second afternoon activity. Clean the floors.
Dinner.
Evening activity. Weightlifting.
Bedtime. The bars would clang shut every night, and the ringing sound persisted in his ears well into the night. He lie in his bed with his hands behind his head, staring at a crack in the ceiling, thinking of nothing.
He was completely numb.
Time passed slowly, but he didn't mind it.
How long had it been?
He wasn't sure.
But
