Marie watched as inmates were brought in. Several men back, with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his bright orange, prison issue jumpsuit and his eyes downcast, Steve walked in like a man condemned. Well he was. Good to see he at least acknowledged the fact.

"Orange is not your color," she said as Steve sat down across from her at one of a roomful of cafeteria-style tables. What was she supposed to say to this man? She found his appreciative gaze irritating.

"It's good to see you."

"Cut to the chase, Steve." Marie tried not to be affected by the hurt look in his eyes. What right did he have to be hurt? Did he really expect her to forgive him just like that? Be happy to see him?

"I was hoping… maybe…" Steve studied her. His analytical look made her uncomfortable. "Guess not." He crossed his arms in front of him on the table and stared intently at her.

His know something you don't glare was giving her the creeps. A fight broke out across the room, and gave Marie a grateful distraction until several armed guards rushed over to a Charley Manson looking man screaming at the young woman whose kids cowered at her side that Marie recognized from the waiting line. The guards grabbed the troublemaker and pulled him out of the room, still screaming and fighting, leaving the woman and her children in tears. Marie felt a tear well up in her eyes at the look of horrified sadness on the woman's face.