I stare at the stone walls of the prison, estimating the distance between us. A hundred yards, maybe two? Even being this close makes me feel nauseous. I sit back in the seat and shut my eyes. Fill my lungs with air, inhaling through my ...
These experiences were overwhelming and at times life me speechless. I didn't know what else to do with these feelings, so I decided to write. Here is a collection of short stories based on those experiences"--Page 4 of cover.
What do you do when you become a statistic - jobless, hopeless and mired in debt?