When Tommy Merrigan used to get stuck on a case, he’d drive for two hours, head out to Lynx Lake and skip rocks. It was a smaller city then; you could make friends with the guy on the motor pool and do things like that without inviting a blue-ribbon commission down on yourself He’d stand out there and ponder things while watching the stone skip and make ripples and it seemed like everything made more sense. He thought about living there sometimes, back when Prescott had only a handful of murders...he could stay on the Job and maybe open a tackle shop. It’s still quiet there, but not quite bait-shop quiet anymore...along with the multiplex and the Marriot with the high-speed internet and conference rooms, some murder has moved in too. About 15 or 20 a year, though, as opposed to Phoenix’s near two hundred, but with the clarity that comes from seeing everything as a rock makes the green lakewater ripple, he knows he wouldn’t do it.

Belated congratulations to Allyson!

Here is a bit of noir in response to the challenge:

=========Choices==========================

Surprised, Warden, that a little mouse like me could take you and your gun? Alone with a prisoner, big mistake.

"Psycho"? Sticks and stones, Warden though what I'm doing with this knife is evidence for your epithet. But, when you said that my "tendency to get raped" was a personal problem, in a 25% HIV positive prison, you sentenced me to die by slow torture. Now I can force the guards to kill me quickly. Psycho or coldly rational?

You aren't pondering that though, you're thinking the same thing I've thought every night for months:

"Please God, make it stop".

Whoosh, that's a good one Typo. Brrrrr, gives me the chills.

Thanks Sail.

Inspired by these posts by Ezra Klein on prison rape.

[link]

[link]

Hey, Tep! New topic? I'm drawing a blank on sticks and stones, even with the extra day.

I'm writing Firefly fic, but that part's not relevant to this thread. What is relevant is how wonderful it feels, the story rolling out, the dialogue in my ear, knowing I'm not going to forget what I'm doing because it's all there and I just have to chip it out of its surroundings . . .

I should go home, though, my Hubby is probably wondering where I am.

Hey, connie. I saw you got recced in ljland today for having the best Spander (Nessuno) out there. Go, you!

Really? I missed that! Off to search for egoboo!

Teppy? Do you need some suggestions for new topics?

An untopic-ed drabble.

to sleep, perchance

The dog sleeps under my desk, dreams of chasing squirrels. The boy plays trombone in the other room, sees lighted stages in his mind's eye. And I, I am dreaming too.

I am dreaming what it must feel like to not believe that security is a dream. I am dreaming of clean water and shelter from the rain. I am dreaming of sunlight streaming through windows and birdsong drifting through doors.

I know that dust and nails and anger and confusion must come first, but I know, I know, I know that soon will come that elusive thing called home.