The last was a slim, pale-skinned brunette man who looked as green as the jumpsuit we had to wear in here. I tried to see him as Elena had as a girl, if he was handsome or worthy of her in any way. He was not. A brutto figio di puttana inside and out. “Ugly little guy,” the inmate beside me grunted as he took stock of the new arrivals. “He’ll be someone’s bitch boy within the week.” I didn’t argue even though I knew he wouldn’t live that long.
