∞ 

How do you feel?

That is the question...

∞ 

There's nothing between them but air. Pam looks the same, obviously, but it feels different and Jim isn't sure how to handle it. He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He looks down and takes the key. Their hands don't touch, which is fine. He's not sure how he would have handled that, either. One thing at a time, he tells himself, starting with this key. He puts it in his pocket, thinking how he used to have a pretty serious keyring. It was heavy and jangled with keys to the office, his apartment, his car, his relatives' homes. Then he lost his job, broke his lease, sold his car, and became persona non grata as far as his family was concerned. He supposes he should buy a new one now. Fresh start, and all that jazz.

He lifts his suitcase and steps over the threshold. Now that he's inside, he takes a look around. It's the first time he's been to Pam's apartment. He can see inside every room from where he's standing in the kitchen. Living room, bedroom, and bathroom. It's cozy or snug or whatever euphemism a property manager might use in the place of "small." But he could jump without touching the ceiling, he could put both of his arms out and turn around in a circle without touching any of the walls, so it feels enormous. He doesn't do either of those things, because that would be weird. He just keeps looking around. It's bright and cheery, in stark contrast to the bleak grayness he's become accustomed to. All the doors are standing wide, all the blinds are open to let in the midday sun, and the walls are white. It smells good, like chocolate and some kind of flowers. It's decorated girlishly, with a couple framed watercolors on the walls. He wonders if Pam painted them herself. The sectional couch where he imagines he'll be sleeping is huge and looks comfortable. The toilet and shower are in their own room. With a door that closes, probably even locks.

Yeah, it's pretty much perfect.

He can take a shower alone, he can control the temperature of the water. He can take a shit in peace without anybody watching, because he's a goddamn free man now. He's still not used to the idea of it. He's used to doing what he's told, when he's told, where he's told to do it. Wake up. Take a shower. Go to breakfast. Go to the yard. Go to lunch. Go to work. Go to dinner. Back to work. Go to group. Lights out. Fucking take it all, Slim Jim, or I won't use lube tomorrow. Better not scream, or I'll cut you again. Stuff like that.

Pam isn't telling him to do anything, though. She's just letting him stand here and look at her stuff, which is a nice change of pace. As he sets down his backpack and lets go of his suitcase, he appreciates that.

∞

But I forget, you don't expect an easy answer

∞

He supposes nobody was or ever could be prepared for prison, but he'd been supremely unprepared. Far less prepared than average. Just, a shockingly low amount of preparedness.

He'd been soft.

Now he's hard. Or tough or cold or dead inside… whatever. Not because he wants to be, but out of necessity. If he hadn't hardened and toughened and frozen, he would have broken and broken, over and over. It's difficult to believe it's only been six months.

Only. He could have laughed but, having forgotten how to smile or be happy, there would have been no humor in it. Not that he's literally forgotten what smiling is and what it represents. He's not autistic or anything. But he's changed so much, it feels like two or three lifetimes have gone by. He suppresses a shudder as he ponders the odds of having HIV for approximately the sixty-fourth time that day. His last test a week ago had come back negative, but he'd need one more in a month's time to be one hundred percent sure. If he's positive, he doesn't know what he's going to do.

That's not true. He knows what he's going to do, if worse comes to worst. He's thought long and hard about it. He just wonders how to do it without hurting Pam.

∞

When something like a soul becomes initialized

And folded up like paper dolls and little notes

You can't expect a bit of hope

∞