I run up the Captain’s room at the firehouse, and peek my head in the door. My team lead comes up beside me and shouts into the room: “Wood pussy!” Continue reading prison: the magic words
In the copshop, in RC– Fire Camp Training at the California Institute for Women. Mr. Darr leaned in on his chair, his body lazily relaxed, his eyes tense and alert. He had called me into the office, staring in silence before speaking. “We don’t listen to rumors, usually, but this one has some meat on its bones. Did you get punched on the yard last … Continue reading 2015, real talk.