20 WinnieInhaling the quality long-staple-cotton aroma coming off her brand-new red-and-black futon cover, Winnie relaxed on her only piece of furniture. Her white-painted studio was a mirror image of Nora’s apartment, with the same beige carpeting covering the floor.
A window was centered in the exterior wall at the far end, a kitchenette, closet, and bathroom opened off the left side, and a long, bare wall was behind her. The place was sterile, but she’d resisted the urge to stick posters up on the walls.
The music and movies she’d loved before she was busted no longer did anything for her. She’d discovered some good stuff while she was inside, especially after they let inmates buy MP-3 players and download from a rigorously censored access point.
Still, she’d missed too much. Thirty-
