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The story she was reading now was about the love affair between Charles and Elizabeth, a Victorian couple that lived more than 100 years ago, in the 1890’s, in Boston. Lost in romance, while imagining she was the main character, in this instance, Elizabeth, she imagined her husband, Bobek, as Charles, romancing her. Opening the book’s cover, as if she was opening a door in time and a portal to the past, where she passed through to escape her dreary life today with an exciting fantasy of yesterday, she fluffed her pillow, made herself comfortable, and started reading. They met under unusual circumstances and she never would have thought it possible, what was developing between them, just by writing to one another. Then, once they finally met, they enjoyed a series of long winded conversations, as if they had known one another all their lives. To think that it all started, when she inadvertently dropped her glove and he retrieved it, and went out of his way to return it. Her clothing. Margie walked calmly and steadily to the block and climbed the stairs up onto it, regarding the noose in front of her with no expression in her face at all. One of the guards reached over and quickly slipped the noose over her head and around her neck, cinching it under her right ear. She turned her head to look at me briefly saying goodbye with her eyes and thanking me for keeping her comfortable with the drugs I assume. Then turning back and in a calm voice she said simply, “I’ll do it.” Without an assist from the guards she calmly stepped into space, dropped, stopped, and swung. Margie’s legs splayed a bit as she began to kick, and I noticed her tongue came out immediately. She seemed to be grunting as her white, tattooed body twisted and twirled at the end of the rope, over and over, “Uh…uh…uh…” She beat her cuffed hands against the small of her back, twisting them until her wrists bled. After a minute or so she tried “bunny hopping” to catch a breath, and that kept up for a.
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