Paul Sukhanov
Stories (1/0)
A Familiar Word
How he hated the rancid smell of this place. Prison Block D of Indiana State Correctional Facility must surely be the foulest smelling place in the world, thought Charles to himself. And yet he surprised himself when just moments later he realized that in a scant 24 hours he would give anything to be back in its damp miasma, to experience again the squalid familiarity of his cot on the steel bedframe and the raucous yells of his still-living prison-mates. Over the course of his 20-year tenure in what the guards cheerfully referred to as the “gloomatorium”, his disposition toward his living arrangements had steadily shifted from quiet tolerance to veiled aggravation to outright disgust. It was a strange and unsettling thought that he was actually capable of missing this wretched place.
By Paul Sukhanov3 years ago in Criminal