AS THE CAR descended, Will fought with himself, wanting to believe but afraid to even hope after so many years.
Could it be?
When the car reached the ground, his fear had almost won. What if he was wrong? He swallowed. If he was wrong, his hope would die. He didn’t think he could stand that. For almost eight years, hope was all he’d had.
The elevator doors opened. He stood unmoving, holding them open with his hand. The doors chimed their complaint. Someone entered the car, forcing him to decide.
He stepped out.
He walked zombie-slow through the reception area. The receptionist called a greeting he didn’t return.
Through the glass wall surrounding reception, across the broad outer lobby, he saw the streets outside the building. His building. His home and prison.
HisOutside, on those
