Shame

First published in Stonecoast Review “Again?” I ignore Ellie and choose a pair of thick wool socks from my favorite vendor’s cart. Two pairs, since we’re taking the subway. “They’re supposed to suffer a little,” she says. “Can we not?” I say. “Anniversary and all?” We take the C line, car 5. Car 4 has the guy who does things with his feces, which would only give Ellie the upper hand. In contrast, the prisoner behind the Plexi at the end of car 5 is tidy. The name plate outside his clear cell has been defaced, but he looks like a Hank. I look at Hank’s bare feet, a size 10 or so, and feed a pair of socks through the slot. I take a seat at the other end of the car beside Ellie. Keep reading →