Prologue

Allison was walking down the pavement towards the corner of Old Kings Road and St Augustine. A slight breeze offered little comfort to the searing, 99-degree heat. To her right were quite a few sketchy characters, sure signs of trouble. They waddled around with pants to their knees and cornrows to their shoulders. She couldn’t understand the drawling language they spoke. It seemed to her a depraved dialect of English that she had heard all her life, but had never taken the time to learn. One playfully shoved the other, causing a rousing effect for the otherwise sluggish group. They joked and shoved, shoved and joked for no purpose than to bring some form of amusement into their boring lives. These types of people could possibly be deadly if provoked, but she knew just as well that if they were left alone, they wouldn’t bite.

Still, it never hurt to be too cautious. So she temporarily diverted her route to the party shop close by and waited for the gaggle to pass. Inside the store, she basked in the air conditioning and browsed the various wares. Airheads, Super Bubble, and Snickers bars all beckoned her deeply. However, the money in her pocket already had a predestined purpose. So she sighed and exited, trusting that her sweet tooth would be satisfied at a latter time.

Wary of the posse, Allison inconspicuously edged out onto the path yet again. She breathed a sigh of relief as they were nowhere in sight. The musky scents of the city once more infused her nostrils. She disliked the steaming stench of dog waste and urine. The odor of gas fumes mixed with the former to create an unpleasant elixir. For a vanishing second, she wished she lived in the countryside, where there were no thugs, smells, or other city unpleasantries. Fresh air, calming silence, and kindly people existed in that magical land, she thought. But she was raised a city girl, and street sludge ran through her veins. She could not survive without the sound of fire trucks or police cars at least every other day.

In no time, the scents turned for the better. The fresh smell of newly washed and dried laundry was omnipresent. Rita’s Laundromat was the source of this bliss. The open doors allowed the innocent freshness to escape out into the vile outdoors. The contrast was worth noting, indeed. It was through this pergola that Allison glided through to check on the family’s laundry order.

“Allison! I’m almost done,” greeted Rita.
“It’s alright. Take your time.”

Allison looked around at the various and plentiful laundry apparatuses around the room. The front-loading washers had a hypnotizing effect on anyone who dared to look at them. The dryers had a similar effect, as their steady whir was enough to lull anybody. Two older fellows were shooting away at the pool table. Allison was drawn into the match.

“Well young lady, who are you rooting for today?” asked Pedro.
“I don’t know. You look like you’re winning, but Jeff has a good setup there,” she answered.
“Ha. You’re funny,” Pedro chimed.

Allison smiled and headed back to the counter. Rita traded Allison the pile of freshly folded laundry for $25.00. Goodbyes were exchanged as she headed out the door back into the wilderness. She had one more stop.

Construction workers lined the ripped up road. It was hard to pick out her target, as he bore orange safety garb as all the others did. It was with much effort and inquiry that she finally found her man.

“Hi Dad.”
“Hey Alli. Thanks a lot,” Dad replied as he took from her a parcel of food and water.
“No problem. Mom says dinner’s at 7.”
“OK. Thanks. Be safe walking home, now.”
“Yup.”

The walk back to the apartment was eventless, and soon, she recognized the two dark-headed figures playing around in the lot as her 6 year-old brother and 4-year old sister. Walking past them, she entered the open door of her home and dropped the laundry on the couch. She didn’t want to fold it. But she would die of boredom otherwise. So she dutifully picked up one article after the other, slowly assaulting the hill of clothing.

Mom soon walked in, trailing the Siblings behind her. She expressed her gratitude in Allison’s selfless, sacrificing act of home courtesy and duty.

“By the way,” she began, “you’ve got mail.”

She handed Allison a plain envelope. Upon examination, Allison discovered the letter to be from Jason Danforth #2010018903, Montgomery Correction Cntr. 4727 Lannie Rd. She opened hastily and read:

“Hi Allison. I got your letter yesterday. I’m glad you think that tomatoes are fruit, too. Glad to hear you’re doing well. Thanks for the pictures you sent me. I sent you something. I hope you get it alright. I can’t wait to see you soon. You need to convince your mom to let you. Happy 16th birthday, I didn’t forget!
Love you! -Dad”