Although it felt impossible, she must have slept a little because she was woken by the woman sliding down from the top bunk. It seemed to take a long time. Her feet came first, long, with purple-painted toenails, a tattoo of a spider on the right ankle. Then her legs in gray jogging pants, on and on. Then a black tee shirt riding up to show a ring in the belly button. Finally, a smooth oval face, long thick dark hair with a fringe, circular hoops in her earlobes. She was very tall, maybe six feet, and looked strong; in her late twenties perhaps, although it was hard to judge. Tabitha hadn’t seen her last night, not really. She’d just climbed into her bed and pulled the blanket over her head and lain there.

“Hi,” she said now.

The woman didn’t reply. She went across the cell and opened the little curtain.

That was another thing. The cell had been built for one person. Now it had bunk beds, two chairs, two narrow tables, two tiny chests, a sink and a toilet with a little curtain rigged up in front of it. The woman tugged her trousers down and sat on the bowl. Her face was quite expressionless; it was as if she were alone. Tabitha turned to the wall, wrapping herself in the blanket so that she couldn’t hear.

The toilet flushed and taps were running. Tabitha waited till the woman was done, then climbed out of her bed and washed herself under her arms, splashed water on her face. Then she pulled on canvas trousers, a tee shirt and a sweatshirt. She slid out her sneakers from under the bed.

“I’m Tabitha,” she said.

The woman was methodically brushing her hair. She looked down at her. She must be almost a foot taller than me, thought Tabitha.

“You told me that last night.”

There was a pause.

“What’s your name?” asked Tabitha.

“Michaela. I told you that as well.”

There was a rattling sound at the door and it was unlocked and the door pushed inward. A stringy, colorless woman was standing next to a trolley with two stainless steel urns on it.

“Tea,” said Michaela.

“Tea,” repeated Tabitha.

The woman filled two mugs and handed them across.

Tabitha’s breakfast pack was on the table. She opened it and laid it out: a plastic bowl, a plastic spoon, a miniature pack of Rice Krispies, a small carton of UHT milk, two slices of brown bread wrapped in polythene, foil-wrapped butter, a little tub of raspberry jam. There was no knife so she spread the butter and the jam on the bread with the handle of her spoon.