HE SENT ME TO PRISON FOR A CRIME I DIDN’T COMMIT

crumbling like wet paper.

That night, I sit with Simone on her tiny balcony. We drink wine. Laugh a little. Watch the sky turn from orange to navy.

“You really did it,” she says. “You took him down.”

I nod. “And I’m not even done yet.”

“You want revenge?”

“No,” I say, thinking of the cell I spent two years in, the cold meals, the bitter mornings. “I wanted continue reading …