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Day 264. It's morning. Soft gray light slips over the tall redbrick wall. It stretches across the exercise yard and reaches through the high, barred windows. In a cell on the ground floor, the light shifts dark shapes into a small stool, a scrawny table, and a bed made of wooden boards with no mattress or blanket.
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Resolved, contemplative, bleak and intimate.
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On Open Library, 2 have read it and 63 want to.
Closest on the same fourteen dimensions, from everything scored on Taste Buds. Other media included when they land close.