Prison life is pretty bad. Days bleed into months... locked away. My life has become an endless cycle. My guilt follows me like a moth drawn to a flame.  Slowly a year passes. A year since I’d committed that horrendous crime. The crime that brought me here.  Stuck in jail, I’ve lost all hope.  It’s kind of funny how in just one year I went from living my ordinary life, to painfully awaiting my death.  I’ve had enough of the flashbacks and nightmares. I am giving up. 

  Then, in an instant, the world changed. A single ray of sunlight peaked its way through the storm clouds: Jasmine Brookes.  I saw her, sitting on a small patch of grass six feet away from the giant barbed fence keeping me in here. 

  She turned and noticed me. Her jet black hair cascaded down her thin back, like a dark waterfall.  Her eyes are endless pools of blue. Placid and warm like a vast ocean. She had the same warm smile that I’d seen beside me on so many sleepless nights. She had my mother’s lips, and it seemed her spirit. 

After studying me for a bit, she shyly asked, “Why do you always look up at the sky?” 

 I was caught off guard by the question, so it took me a second before replying, “...the birds.” 

She laughed spontaneously at my response.  

I laughed and expanded.  “I know this sounds really stupid - birds give me hope. They look so free. Bright, crazy, coloured ones, soaring through the sky like shooting stars.  If those little birdies can find freedom and happiness in this cold, unforgiving world, maybe I can too!” 

“You one of the weed smokers, aren’t ya.” She smirked.

“Nah, ...guess I’m just a philosophical guy. They call me Alex.”

“I’m Jasmine.” 

“What are you doing here anyway? People ain’t allowed back here.” 

  “My daddy works here. I drive him home most days. I’m waiting for his shift to end. He’s one of the guards. They let me roam around these grounds, they don’t give a crap.” 

  Back in my cell, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The next day I looked for her again, but she wasn’t there.  Or the day after.  I started to get worried that I had made her up in my head.  Then, on the 4th day, she appeared!   

“Hey!”  I burst out.  

  She looked directly at me as if she was waiting to resume our conversation…

  “It must get so lonely there. Is it scary, knowing you gonna be..executed and all?”She blurted out before realizing that might not be the best thing to ask. 

  I nodded. I felt a rush to connect, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out.  “Ya see the thing is, when I was a teenager, I constantly wished for death.  Now that it’s been handed to me on a silver platter, I don’t want it.  I realized that I don’t want to die, I just wanted to be loved! The world made me think death was the only option to stop me from feeling so alone.” I paused,  “I mean everyone dies... I just got my death planned out for me.  I gotta accept it and reflect on the horrible stuff I did. I got to look for love instead of dreading death.” 

  “I see you ain’t a pot smoker. You one of those acid junkies!” She said jokingly. ”I can tell you like to talk a lot.  I’m not sure if it’s because you think your words are helping people or you just like the sound of your own voice.” She bit her lip. 

 I loved her already. 

  “I’m just playin with ya.”  She smirked.  “I think a lot about death too.  My mama - she gone and got herself killed when I was 15. I was all on my own, too. You know since my daddy’s so busy with work and all. He doesn’t care about me, only his job. ”  She paused. “But this feels good, right now, talking about our stuff.”  She squinted up at me.  

  I felt a rush of connection and familiarity.  It was as if we had known each other when we were little and we had stumbled across one another again.

  I revealed,  “My old man was a washed-up son-of-a-gun, too.  I am here because of him. He was beating my mama….worse than usual. I didn’t know what to do. He looked like he was going to kill her.  So I shot him dead.” 

  “That really sucks, man.  You got no one looking out for ya. It’s so lonely.”  She sighed.  

  "Right, it is. I got here a year ago, and I feel the...cold. The jury, judge and prosecutor on my case were racist. They used me as their scapegoat. They hid evidence that proved I shot my Pa to save my Mama.”  

  “Screw the system. It’s horrible.” She stuck her middle finger in the air shaking her head.  “Yeah! Screw the system!”  I chimed in after her. 

   The next few weeks I would wait by the fence to talk to Jasmine. The days became a little less bleak, and I started to lose the dark, lonely feeling that had followed me throughout my life. But that hope was crushed, one cold, November night.  

  I had a meeting with my Lawyer.  “I’m sorry, Alex.  We have to stay the execution...but all the appeals I’ve requested have been turned down.  All of my efforts in getting you pardoned have been unsuccessful.  Although, you should also see all the petitions people have been writing about you! You have caused quite an uproar recently.” 

 My Lawyer showed me a document. 

“Stop the execution of Alex Jones”…. Beneath were 502,120 Signatures.  

  Why did so many people care what happens to me? I couldn’t help but be blown away. Then I remembered the bad news she was gonna tell me. 

  “Say it! It’s still gonna happen, right?” I stared coldly 

  “Your execution date has been confirmed. You will be executed in two weeks. I wish there was something I could do.  I will keep trying but it’s looking pretty grim. The president is trying to finish a lot of executions before he leaves office.” I knew it was coming but I didn’t think I’d hear those words so soon. I’d only spent just over a year on death row - one of the shortest times in history. 

  Back in the Rec Room, I couldn’t help but stare at the people on the TV behind him. They were holding giant signs, such passion in their expressions.  Black Lives Matter protesters. Just as the world was finally changing for the better, I was gonna have to leave it. These people can’t save me. I felt numb. 

Later in the yard, I saw Jasmine through the fence. 

“I’m gonna die in 2 weeks.” I choked out and watched the colour drain from her face.     “Don’t miss me too much!”  I joked feebly.  “You’ll be able to find an even sexier man out there somewhere!” 

 “I wish things were different.” Tears began to form in her eyes. 

  “Look who’s going soft on me,” I said laughing and crying. I shook my head and started to leave...but turned back around. I couldn’t leave like this. “Jasmine. You made this time here so much more bearable. Thank you.” 

   Jasmine smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. I reached my hand through the small holes in the fence. “Reach out to me.” 

    I tried to touch her and she began to sing me the lullaby that my mom used to sing me when I was in her arms.  My eyes widened and I exclaimed, “How did you know that my mom used to sing that to me?”   Just as she was about to answer, I heard a voice behind me. It was the prison guard. 

   “Psycho!  Get your hands away from the fence!  What are you even reaching at? There is nothing there.  You going crazy, man?”  

***

  In another lifetime, I wished I could have explored the world with her.  We could have met somewhere else. Such a naive dream! That’s not how the world works. Guys like me ain’t treated fairly. Guys like me don’t get what we want. Guys like me don’t get to be happy. 

 I shook my head. Screw how the world works. Maybe I could change that, just for a few minutes. Maybe I could be happy. I closed my eyes and imagined cupping her cheek with my palm.  I dreamed of kissing her and a spark of pure euphoria shot through my body like a firework.  When they began to strap me down, she was all around me. She was wilting flowers on the warden's desk. She was the pencil laying on the stone-cold floor.  She was the bird perched on the prison window. I could hear her singing. Singing in hope.