by Madelyn Kamen He was there every day, Looking at her from the other side of the window, Smiling at her as she handed over his little green pill. He wasn’t that old and she wasn’t that young; Neither had ever married. She was a psychiatric nurse’s aide who understood the inmates Because she had been abused as a child, pulling into herself To avoid punishment. He was there because he had been bullied as a little boy, Making it a habit of staying away from the big guys who could Beat him up. Now, they were adults, albeit imperfect ones, who Occasionally would sit together on her coffee breaks … Continue reading
