Panic attacks sometimes gripped her when she thought she might be force-feeding them memories they’d sooner forget. Yet, something deep in her gut told her it was the gesture that meant something to them, not the act of eating. The cruelty and darkness in that place sometimes overwhelmed her. Dot and Roscoe were the light Ginny needed to keep on working there. Maybe Ginny’s meals were the light those men needed to make it through the final hours before death claimed them.
