Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

I turned on the stove, getting it ready to fry up the mystery meat. It had been stupid of me to expect I could eat something other than what I’d been choking down the past nine years of my life. And why? Because it was my thirtieth birthday? I hadn’t been special to anyone since I had been twelve when Gramma was still alive. What the hell had made me believe something would suddenly change now, especially as a convicted felon? So, we cooked while Harry supervised, and then I ate my dinner with a little less enthusiasm than usual. Chuck and Jag did me the solid of rounding up a couple of other guys to sing a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday,” and they gifted me with a Twinkie someone had grabbed from the commissary. It was nice—more than anybody had done for me in years—and I enjoyed my Twinkie with the stupidest smile on my face. Because when I closed my eyes, sitting with my back against the library wall, I almost felt normal. I had come in to find a new book to read, hoping there’d be something I hadn’t read yet, and thought I’d enjoy a few quiet minutes alone, surrounded by the warm scent of musty, old books. And now, I sat on the floor, finishing my birthday present with my arm wrapped around my knees, as I breathed deeply and imagined I wasn’t here, trapped within these stone walls. I was on the outside, free to come and go as I pleased. Free to breathe the fresh air or buy a pizza whenever I damn well felt like it without worrying if it would give me salmonella. The...