Chapter 55

In a jiffy the door creaked open and the prison warden pranced into the visitors’ waiting room with Mr. Fanny; it was then Mrs. Fanny raised up her gaze which had been downwards all along.

His hair wasn’t a clean cut any more, dread locks filled his scalp, with jaw carpeted with grey, neatly-carved beards and mustache. The orange overall was closely fitted due to the muscles and tight skin underneath, and a tattoo of an axe was stamped on the right arm, while on the left arm Ciara was stylishly written with a shapely flower by it; he had earned this in its entirety within a short while in jail. His eyes held fire, lips paused dryly and eyes blinked once in an interval. As he sat opposite, Mrs. Fanny, his wife, he asked her a million questions with his malicious glare and sadness that hung on his brow.

“You have ten minutes,” the prison warden reminded them and quickly tucked away, standing and staring at the liveliness in the prison through the window.

For a minute only their offensiv