Sara Tranum
@sara_tranum
207 words
“Something Special”
“Mary,” he called. “You makin’ somethin’ special for me today?”
“Yes, suh, Mista’ Peta,” was my reply. Every day, he patrolled up above, leering at the new women brought to the prison house. Every day, he strolled along that walkway to where he could peer down into the kitchen and watch us labor in the choking heat of the kitchen.
Today, though, I really did have something special.
“Mista’ Peta’,” I called up, just before he turned away.
The guard paused and sternly gazed down through the open window. He spat tobacco over the rail and glared at me. “You got somethin’ ta say, Mary?”
“Ye-yes, suh,” I stammered. “Got some heavy cream we’s whippin’ for the dessert. I put a lil’ extra suga’ in one. You look for tha plate in the middle, that’ll be the special one.”
His ice-blue eyes narrowed and lips curled back from stained teeth slightly. “Very good. Thank ya, Mary.” Then he continued along the walkway, back straight and shoulders square.
I smiled at his back, whipping the small bowl of cream to absorb the warfarin and hummed slightly. I pictured how he would bleed from places that, at his doing, I and so many others had bled. Something special, indeed.