Talk to me, guapa. No one else in this cell will.
It has been a long day. The dawn breaks early. The sun sets late. Like combat, the time in between is boredom punctuated by brief periods of terror.
The terror is less since I lost Tyrone. He is not a nice man. Solitary is lonely, but better.
Prison makes you appreciate the little things. I miss the smell of the Bentley leather. I miss waiters sucking up to me. I miss the G-5 charters.
But what does it all mean, guapa? I've spent five days in hell. Rollie Rolex is gone. I can't tell time without my $40,000 clock. It's so not fair.
I should be out by tomorrow. Tiffy has never lost.
Tifford filed my appeal. It's lame, but it's what I have.
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