The prison was unusually still that evening, wrapped in a heavy kind of silence only places filled with remorse carry. The concrete walls seemed to absorb every sound, and the fluorescent lights flickered with a tired hum, stretching long shadows across the hallway. Inside one of the cells sat a man in his mid-forties. His posture was slumped forward, his face carved by years of mistakes, isolation, and too much time to replay the same memories. He stared at the cold floor, drained of hope, simply waiting for whatever came next.
