It was my first day out. The rain smelled like freedom. The sight of those dark clouds cheered me up. It all looked so different. So unique in that, my eyes are new. Refreshed. The dirt road leading out of the prison had turned to mud, but I didn't care. My feet fell deep into it. Every step. It was music. A symphony of gratitude. This right here, simply the overture. The strings. They play loudly in my ears. In my thoughts.



I have experienced many things in my life. But this is the greatest. This is relief. It must be the same for everyone. But not for me. The relief of imprisonment to an innocent person feels much more euphoric. The first person I saw that didn't work at the prison I told I loved them. He must get that a lot, being the cabby of this town.



The truth is, I made a heaven of my hell, and being in this town, it wasn't hard. They were so friendly. I guess your idea of those who are approachable and honest changes when you are a prisoner. Maybe the time spent in there gave me nothing to do but befriend thieves and killers. The last thing one wants is an enemy with nothing left to lose.



In any case, I am glad to be out of there. I don't know why, but I have no sympathy for the family I left in there. They were guilty, above everything else. An innocent man doesn't stop pleading innocence after being captured and thrown in jail.



Now, my only problem is what next. I have thought about it. What I would do if released. But the day I pictured, I thought, would never come. I waited at the front, outside of the gates, for an hour. I had nothing. Not a single inkling of what I can do.



So, I walked. I just walked. The only road I recognized. A lot of things changed in the last 46 years. There were things I have never seen before. People had these little card shaped devices that they talked into, and apparently someone talked back to them. Just like a phone. However, after the conversation was over, they would just throw them away. I didn't understand it.



The mud on my shoes was dry, but my feet and socks were still damp. The mud didn't seep through my toes anymore. Now I can hear the brass chiming in. It's beautiful. Something for harmony to learn.



As I felt maybe 30 minutes of walking go by, I looked up and I saw a diner that I remembered eating at. I can't believe it is still here. Nothing else is. It was across the street. Walking twenty more feet to a resting place couldn't kill me.



I decided to go. As I began to walk across the street, I heard the percussion come in with the cymbals and the bass drum. I opened my eyes to witness several people staring. My head was wet, and my heart was beating slowly. Nothing made sense at the moment. I couldn't even see the diner.



A woman asked if I was okay. I responded with the only seemingly obvious answer.



"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" I said as I tried to sit up. When I did, a sharp pain coursed through the back of my head and down my neck and spine. My legs wouldn't move.



"Just, lie down, and wait a moment," she said, "An ambulance should be here quickly."



I complied, but I couldn't understand. I heard sirens, which pierced my ear, like a record being stopped suddenly. My head wobbled back and forth, and I fell back to the ground. All I could see at this point was white.

I closed my eyes. It felt so comfortable. As I dozed off, my chest burned. My heart raced, and then stopped. After a second, it happened again. I didn't like this feeling. I just wanted to sleep. My eyes shot open, but I couldn't see anything. Then, I woke up.

I woke up here. In this cell. Sweating in this bed. This god damn bed. These grey walls and this ominous darkness. They hate me. The taste of stale bread pervades my mouth. Sweat drips into my eyes, my back aches, and the ill-boding silence surrounds this room.

I hate everything.