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I had no place to go except the half-way house. I’d be stuck there until I could find me a job. I had to get a job. Well, it was better than nothing, the halfway house. I was forty-seven years old and twenty pounds lighter than when I went in. Health? So-so, it was relative, I guess.The screw waved to me. He didn’t like me. His Name was Carlos, we’d had words before, he and I. Nothing big, but we didn’t get along. I think he considered me a pansy; I wasn’t, but after the gang rape thing, that’s how he saw me; well, that’s what I thought whether true or not. But anyway, he waved to me. Well, so what.I felt numb. Not good, not bad, just numb. More than six years gone, almost seven, time lost forever, but my baby was safe. I started walking. I heard the gate slam behind me, but I didn’t turn to see it; I’d seen enough of that damn place to last a lifetime. Even the infirmary, where I’d spent all but the last month and a half of the past four months, was anathema to me.I’d done all I. Within an hour and a half we had tied up about fifty bales and left them in their spot as we moved on.It was getting hotter as the sun got higher and both of us were sweating. I stopped and took out the piece of cloth I had in my back pocket and wiped my forehead. Charlie did the same, taking off her hat and wiping her face. Both of our shirts were wet with sweat and again I could not help but look at her tits as the shirt clung to her body, making her nipples stand out even more. Again, she saw me looking at her tits and our eyes met but neither of us said anything.“How about a five minute break,” I said and sat down on the last bale we tied.She sat down next to me. There wasn’t that much room on the bale and our thighs accidentally touched, but neither of us moved.“Sure is hot,” I said, looking at her, noticing how strands of her hair stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. She tugged at her tight t-shirt, pulling it out to let some air in.“Yeah,” she said, looking at me and then out.
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