He looked me up and down "who da fuck you lookin at white boy" she shouted before he walked off in the direction of the gym.Next out was a middle age...white guy , about 40 years old , he had a black eye and a cut lip and nose. I asked him was he ok , he just nodded. He tried to talk but as he breathed in he held his side like he had broken ribs . He limped off towards the prison medical room. He looked beat up bad. I had breakfast and a few games pool , read a book ,had dinner and headed back. “Goodnight, Silmaria,” he said at last. “Goodnight, Lord Rael.” * To my son, Rael, blood of my blood and heir to my holdings, What a pompous way to begin a letter. I’ve written so many letters to you just so. Stiff, formal, like we are two stuffed shirts sitting across the dinner table at some highborn court function. But that’s not really us, is it? I’ve always been a man of simple words and deeds. I hardly known the man you’ve become, but I can say with the certainty of my gut that you are. More

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