Cori Schwabe

Day Forty-Nine

Day forty-nine. It starts like my last forty-eight days. A guard trails her baton down the wall of doors, shouting “Rise and Shine” like it’s some sunny, happy morning and she’s about to serve me blueberry pancakes and hot coffee. My sleeping set of black sweatpants and sweatshirt is switched for my day set of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt, a small comfort in this overcrowded Colorado fortress.