Maureen
There was a man who was sitting in jail. Less than twenty four hours and he had found things didn't work here the same way as back in the world. There was no phone call, no miranda rights, no seventy two hour holding limit. He was, in essence, fucked.
He was injured, he was incarcerated, and he was alone. Patrick stood at the bars of the holding cell awaiting some ruling that would probably send him to prison. Unless there was a death sentence. He might get that. And wouldn't that be a miscarriage of justice.
He stood at the bars and waited. It was easier to stand, the way his back hurt. It gave him the perfect opportunity to see her when she walked in. Maureen. Maureen with a nice bruise from where he'd kissed her with his fist.
He was injured, he was incarcerated, and he was alone. Patrick stood at the bars of the holding cell awaiting some ruling that would probably send him to prison. Unless there was a death sentence. He might get that. And wouldn't that be a miscarriage of justice.
He stood at the bars and waited. It was easier to stand, the way his back hurt. It gave him the perfect opportunity to see her when she walked in. Maureen. Maureen with a nice bruise from where he'd kissed her with his fist.