With the late nights and early wakeups, I wasn’t feeling like myself. If I didn’t get enough sleep, I got hungrier. Hungry and tired led to cranky and I had enough going on without my basic animalistic needs getting in the way.
My cellphone finally rang.
Thank the Goddess.
“An inmate from Holton Penitentiary is calling. Do you accept charges from: It’s me, b***h?”
“I accept.”
“See. I told you I could help.” Clara laughed on the other end of the line. “Get a pen. You’re going to want to write this down.”
*
The clothes may have helped with my confidence, but being armed with actual knowledge made me feel more in control.
My gaze swept the cafeteria of late risers enjoying breakfast and I breathed through my mouth so as not to overwhelm my beast with the intoxicating scent of testost
