[Only him. The smallest twinge of loneliness follows, and Henry holds it in his mind like a shard of reflective glass, uncertain what to do with it, unsure if he wants to examine it--
And then moves on.]
One of a kind. So, then-
[More images. Chaos of men in orange jumpsuits, raised voices. Fighting, fighting. There's a thrill behind that, too.
no subject
And then moves on.]
One of a kind. So, then-
[More images. Chaos of men in orange jumpsuits, raised voices. Fighting, fighting. There's a thrill behind that, too.
A different kind of prison than Henry's.]
Why were you in prison? Do you mind telling me?