by Ken Lamberton
When the yard opens again after count, he starts having visitors. Men I’ve known for years who wouldn’t normally speak to me come sniffing around like dogs. Now we’re friends. Mark greets them all with a smooth barstool voice. “What’s your name?” he asks. He softens to strangers at the door and makes easy conversation that hints of availability, vulnerability. I’m embarrassed. I wonder if he knows what he’s doing. The men laugh at him. But they stay.
by Kristen Desmond
Lambs Grove Residential Community Home is a nice place to live, because the hallways don’t smell like pee or vomit, and because the cafeteria staff lets you have as much macaroni and cheese as you want at supper time.
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