Little Jane walked the run of the fence. Its metallic rails felt like prison bars that forbade insight. “Mommy, Mommy. What lies on the other side?” she asked with one-hand tugging and the other pointing.
“A very bad man” replied her mother with a terse tone.
They came to a stop and Jane heard another voice.
“Can I see her?”
“Not until you pay for your crimes.”
“Please Maryanne, just this once. I’m running out of time.”
Jane heard papers rustling followed by an almost silent weeping. Years later, she would learn that her father died both poor and blind.