She Was Not the Prey

Summary

I spent most of my Thursday afternoons idling by the chain-link gates of the state correctional institution, waiting for the women in gray to walk out.

My targets were always the same: no family waiting by the curb, no beat-up sedans idling with nervous boyfriends behind the wheel, and reasonably pretty. A girl like that, stripped of five years of daylight, was starving for a lifeline. Throw her a warm smile and a soft word, and she’d cling to your jacket like you were Jesus Christ himself.