Page 22 of Caged In

Izz skims the outskirts of the small compact shed-like structure which appears as if its purpose is to house themower for the yard’s lawn, and perhaps tools for the garden. He wonders what types of plants they grow here, fruits and vegetables? Or flowers? Both?

Izz rounds the corner, hoping to have some privacy to lay back in the surprisingly lush green grass and stare at the blue clear sky—

What he does not expect is to find an inmate—small and cute—leaning against the building’s wall. He swallows hard as his mind comes to terms with what his eyes are identifying—

A guard, stepping away from an inmate—

The inmate who has their front squashed against the building, back bent, ass out, with pants bunched around the knees—

A guard who is clearly tucking back in. And zipping up—and turning to leave—

Izz quickly ducks back behind the wall. To avoid being caught. Too late to run off, that will definitely make it obvious. So he casually sits back against the building. Sprawling out like he’s innocently enjoying the sun, closing his eyes and trying to quieten his rapid heart rate—praying the guard can’t hear it thumping in his chest.

He detects the guard sauntering closer, their strides faltering sloppily when they obviously become aware of Izz’s presence. When Izz doesn’t react—focusing on keeping his features schooled into indifference—the footfalls continue, disappearing off towards the yard.

He releases his breath, lungs deflating in a whooshing rush, cracking his eyes open—

“Not polite to stare.”

Izz nearly dies. He’s sure his heart exploded out of his chest and is now rolling a hasty retreat through the grass.

The cute inmate—who was being railed by a guard—is planted right in front of his outstretched legs, peering at him.

“Huh?” Is all Izz’s mind can spit out. He tries to play dumb, to make a face likewhat-are-you-on-about.But he can feel his cheeks blushing bright red. He knows he’s failing miserably with the whole innocent act.

Sure enough, the inmate rolls his eyes, sitting down slowly next to Izz. Adopting a similar position against the building’s smooth exterior.

“Saw you watching, didn’t anyone ever tell you that’s rude?” The pretty inmate flutters his eyes at Izz, running them up and down Izz’s frame.

‘Watching’might be a stretch,frozen-in-shock-for-a-split-second-that-felt-like-an-eternitywould describe it better.

Izz’s mouth opens . . . and closes . . . he’s entirely blanking on any responses to deny the accusation. He would make a terrible criminal—eh, well, one who has to lie for a living, and stay cool and collected under interrogation.

Guess that rules out spy work for me as a future career.

He decides to go with the truth, for the life of him he can’t think of a lie to tell, the truth is all he has. “Not my fault you’re doing . . .That,” he defends, “out in the open,” he adds exasperatedly.

“Was behind a building.” The inmate dismisses it as if that makes it fine and dandy to be doing it in a public place.

Izz raises his brows at the cute inmate, willing his expression to portray hisyou’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me mindset.

The inmate laughs, a soft mellow sound, “you wanna share in my bounty?”

The cute inmate offers a thin white roll, nestled between delicate fingers.

“ . . . that what I think it is?” Izz breathes out, eyes widening.

The inmate nods, placing the blunt between his plump lips. He lifts a battery from his pocket, proceeding to press a thin stripof . . . a gum wrapper? . . . between the two ends—a little flame sparks to life, licking into the air, dancing off the wrapper.

Wow, Izz had no idea you could make a lighter with those objects.

“What’s the catch?” Izz questions sceptically, as the inmate beside him leans into the flame to light the blunt’s end. The warm scent in the air one he’s familiar with—a happy reminder of home.

Between puffs, the man divulges, “you don’t say shit . . . about what you saw . . . I share my blunt . . . with you . . . Deal?”

The delicate flame is snuffed out, the scorched wrapper’s remains removed from the battery to float free, and the battery disappearing back into its pocket home.

“. . . Deal.” Izz will never snitch on anyone regardless, which is not something he’ll willingly divulge to this cute inmate. Not when the revelation has the potential to screw up his chance to relax in this Hell-hole. And with the day he’s had, he needs it. Badly.

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