And with that done, there was only one thing left to do – wait for Eman.
And so days passed idly continuing my routine. It was an existence filled with the simple pleasures of life behind bars: eating, shitting, cursing at the rats, engaging in unwilling conversations with Zehar, and, of course, indulging in the art of napping. When boredom struck, I even attended a few prison classes, just to keep life spicy.
Until one day, as I was leisurely seated in a metal chair, enjoying a sandwich at the sturdy round table on the ground floor of the cell block, a guard approached me.
He laid his hand on my shoulder and declared, "The warden requested that you visit him as soon as possible."
My response? "Let me finish my food first."
He stepped back and patiently waited with his rubber bullet M4 until I finished my sandwich.
