Until Celia visited.
Al, one of the nicer guards, escorted him down to the public Visitor’s Room. “Twenty minutes,” he said and opened the door.
Felipe’s gaze locked on her immediately; Celia seemed to glow in the shabby room. Her glossy black curls were pulled back with a turquoise and orange scarf and her earrings sent sparkles of light around her face. A denim jacket covered her torso and a pink halter top held the swell of her breasts, a ribbon tie snuggled beneath them. Felipe could see himself untying the ribbon with his teeth.
He grabbed the handset with one hand and put the other on the cool glass between them. Celia raised one hand to his, her chin trembling, then tears.
“Oh, baby, don’t do that. Don’t cry, Celia, please.” Felipe imagined the smell of her perfume, remembered h
