A buzzer sounded, letting my daughter Heather into a long hallway with booths separated by glass. She hurried and sat down across from me, picking up the phone. I was in prison orange while she was in pedestrian white.
"Oh, daddy," she said, her warm pink lips pouting. "I've been so worried. Are you okay in there?"
"I'm all right, cupcake."
"Are they treating you well? Do you need more lube so it doesn't hurt so much?"
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Heather, I'm fine."
"Do you want me to get you anymore of that chafing powder?"
I glanced at the guard behind me. "I said I'm fine."
"But in your letter—"
"Heather, I'm fine!" I said, squirming in my seat. It was hard to sit comfortably. "More importantly, are you ready for tomorrow?"
She perked up with a big smile. "Yup, daddy. I'm r
