He asked questions.

He memorized details.

What color was Lily's drawing?

Did Leo make the basketball team?

Was the roof still leaking?

Had Sarah remembered to call the plumber?

Sometimes Sarah laughed.

Sometimes Arthur could almost pretend they were simply talking across a table at a restaurant.

Then he would notice the glass.

And reality returned.

Arthur noticed the exhaustion long before Sarah admitted it.

The dark circles beneath her eyes.

The slight tremor in her hands.

The way she sometimes lost her place in her notebook.

She was working two jobs.

During the day, she handled administrative work at a medical clinic.

At night, she worked several evenings a week at a small grocery store.

She did it to keep the house.

Arthur had offered to sell it.

Sarah refused.

“That's their home,” she told him during one phone call. “It's your home too.”

Arthur closed his eyes.

“Sarah—”

“No.”

“You shouldn't have to do this alone.”

“I know.”

“I should be there.”

“I know.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Then Sarah whispered, “I know.”

The decision to reduce the children's visits came after Lily began having nightmares.

She would wake crying.

Sometimes she dreamed Arthur was trapped behind a glass wall.

Sometimes she dreamed she was trapped and Arthur was the one walking away.

Leo began getting into arguments at school.

He became withdrawn.

Angry.

Sarah and Arthur finally accepted what they had been avoiding.

The visits were hurting the children.

So they agreed.

Leo and Lily would only come for major holidays.

Arthur would see Sarah more often when she could manage the trip alone.

It was a reasonable decision.

It was also devastating.

The first Saturday without them, Arthur waited for the visitation schedule to begin.

He knew they were not coming.

Still, every time the heavy door opened, he looked up.

That became one of the most painful lessons of prison.

Knowing something did not stop you from hoping.

On his last phone call before his birthday, Sarah had tried to sound cheerful.

“I talked to administration,” she said.

Arthur immediately knew.

“No.”

“They said the schedule is full.”

“Sarah.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize.”

“I tried to get a special visit.”

Arthur sat on the small plastic stool in the phone area.

He looked around.

Other inmates were speaking to families.

One man was laughing.

Another was arguing.

Arthur focused on Sarah's breathing.

“Don't get your hopes up, Artie,” she continued. “They said the chances are very small.”

He smiled despite himself.

“I don't care about my birthday.”

There was silence.

“Liar.”

Arthur laughed.

It surprised him.

For a moment, he felt like himself.

Sarah began to cry.

Arthur's smile disappeared.

“Hey.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to do something.”

“You're doing everything.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Sarah took a breath.

“When you come home, we're having a huge party.”

Arthur closed his eyes.

“Sarah—”

“I'm serious.”

“I'll be forty-one by then.”

“Then it'll be an even bigger party.”

He smiled.

“That's terrible logic.”

“I married an accountant. Don't question my math.”

Arthur laughed again.

Then the line went silent.

The call had ended.

And Arthur had spent the rest of the evening staring at the wall.

Now, on the morning of November 14, Officer Elena Davis could not stop thinking about him.

She met Marcus Miller near the staff break room during the midmorning shift.

“He's not eating lunch.”

Miller glanced up.

“So?”

“It's his birthday.”

Miller sighed.

“Davis.”

“What?”

“You're getting attached.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I think you're attached.”

Miller stared at her.

Davis folded her arms.

“He has eighteen months left.”

“Correct.”

“He hasn't caused a problem since he arrived.”

“Correct.”

“He tutors people.”

“Yes.”

“He works more than anyone else.”

“Yes.”

“And today he's spending his birthday alone.”

Miller took another drink of coffee.

“That's prison.”

Davis stared at him.

For several seconds, Miller avoided her eyes.

Then he set the cup down.

“What are you thinking?”

Elena smiled slightly.

“Nothing.”

Miller had learned that sentence was usually a warning.

“Davis.”

“I'm just thinking.”

“That's worse.”

She turned toward the corridor.

“What if we checked the schedule?”

Miller's expression hardened.

“The visitation schedule is full.”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I could check.”

Miller stared at her.

“You are not going to bend rules.”

“I didn't say bend.”

“Davis.”

“I said check.”

She walked away.

Marcus Miller watched her go.

Then he looked through the break-room window toward the yard.

Arthur Pendelton was standing alone near the fence.

The afternoon light fell across his gray uniform.

For one strange moment, Miller remembered his own daughter.

Emily.

She was twenty-six now.

But he remembered her seventh birthday.

A pink cake.

A crooked paper crown.

Her laughter.

Miller's jaw tightened.

He picked up his coffee.

It had gone cold.

A QUESTION NO ONE EXPECTED

Arthur spent the morning in the laundry room.

The facility laundry was loud enough to erase thought.

Industrial machines shook the floor.

Steam filled the air.

The smell of detergent clung to everything.

For Arthur, that was usually a blessing.

Noise left less room for memories.

He sorted uniforms.

Folded sheets.

Loaded machines.

Moved carts.

Repeated.

Repeated.

Repeated.

The monotony helped.

Until his supervisor approached.

“Pendelton.”

Arthur looked up.

“Yes?”

“Officer Miller wants to see you.”

Arthur froze.

The laundry room suddenly seemed quieter.

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

Arthur's stomach tightened.

He replayed the previous week.

Had he broken a rule?

Forgotten something?

Said something inappropriate?

In prison, an unexpected request from an officer was rarely comforting.

Arthur wiped his hands on his uniform.

“I'll go.”

Officer Marcus Miller was waiting in a small administrative room.

Arthur stood at the doorway.

“You wanted to see me?”

Miller looked at him for a moment.

“Sit down.”

Arthur sat.

His heart beat faster.

Miller opened a folder.

Arthur immediately recognized his own name.

ARTHUR PENDELTON.

His throat tightened.

“Is there a problem?”

“No.”

Arthur waited.

Miller turned a page.

“Today's your birthday.”

Arthur blinked.

“Yes.”

“Forty.”

“Yes.”

The officer nodded.

Arthur felt increasingly confused.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.”

“Then why am I here?”

Miller leaned back.

Arthur noticed something unusual.

The officer looked uncomfortable.

“I understand your family attempted to arrange a visit.”

Arthur's chest tightened.

“They did.”

“Your wife contacted administration?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone tell you that the schedule was full?”

Arthur hesitated.

“Yes.”

Miller nodded.

Then he closed the folder.

Arthur waited.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Miller said, “How would you feel if I told you there may be a possibility?”

Arthur stared at him.

“A possibility?”

“A short visit.”

Arthur immediately shook his head.

“No.”

Miller frowned.

“No?”

Arthur looked down.

“I don't want to get my hopes up.”