The first thing I noticed was her curly braids and fat cheeks. Dressed in blue jeans, a sweat shirt with her Alma Mater, Long Island University. She stood in line with her sneakers in hand, clear plastic bag with money, her i.d. identified her as Kenya Leanell Jackson. I pulled at my ear, stood behind the counter with the rest of the Correction officers. They hated me being in their space and hated their bigot asses. Women with babies, dropping off packages of food, money and clothing. The shit sickened me to see them waiting until the jail bird was released.
Author Tamyara Brown
My love for writing is unconditional. It is my sanity in this crazy world.