Life In Jail Narrative

These past few months have been pretty rough. I’ve been in jail for almost three months now, and it’s all because of my best friend. These jail cells are a lot less roomy than I expected. I hate being here, it’s crowded and it smells really bad. The beds are itty bitty, rock hard, and worst of all freezing. The toilets don’t even flush, and there is always some guard coming to check on me, so I don’t get any good sleep at night. Later throughout the day, as I was laying in my cold uncomfortable bed, i was thinking about something that I could have done differently to not get caught. What if I wouldn’t of talked to the officer, what if i wouldn’t of shown up, and most of all, what if i wouldn’t have lit that dang cigar. Why did I have to talk to the officer? How didn’t I realize that the policeman was Jimmy? Yeah sure, it has been twenty years but I should have recognized my old friend.
The cigar is the reason i’m in here, it was a stupid mistake that i didn’t think about and i should have. I knew that I as wanted in Chicago, but then again, I thought that the officers in New York would find out. Wait, but how is the flame of a lighter enough to know who I am? Now that I am actually thinking about it, if I wouldn’t have lit the cigar, I wouldn’t of been noticed, and I wouldn’t be here right now. Anyway, now that it’s late, the guards are coming to check all the inmates cells for dangerous objects and to make sure none of us have killed ourselves. Of course, the same routine every night. Under the bed, nothing, In the sink drain, nothing, in the back of the toilet, nothing. No that all 18 cells in my area have been checked, I hear a faint voice from across the room. Wait, it’s the new guy, wow, what a surprise. “Hey buddy, how’d you get yourself in here?” “You look like a pretty reasonable fellow,” He calls. “My name is John by the way, what’s