Winter came and went in fragments Taylor mostly witnessed through reinforced glass. The trees beyond the outer fence went bare, then held themselves there in that grey, suspended way things do when the world looks dead but isn’t. Snow fell twice, dusting the yard in a thin, white sheet that turned to slush by afternoon. By spring, the first signs of green began creeping back into the edges of the prison grounds, visible only in flashes during transport between buildings.
Taylor marked none of it on paper, but her body kept count anyway.
When the anniversary of Andrew’s death arrived, she knew before she looked at the date on the wall calendar in the laundry room.
She woke that morning with a heaviness in her chest so immediate and familiar it felt physical, like she had swallowed someth
