Stagnant Water

"Trust me," he says and for a moment she desires nothing more than to do just that. But she can't.

Twelve years. Twelve years, he spent in prison, for a crime he did not commit. Twelve years of his life, gone. Stolen from him.

She swallows.

"Come on," he says. "There's no reason for you not to." He smiles at her and then the smile fades and he tilts his head to the side to study her. "Is there? Do you believe them?"

"I believe you were wrongly committed for a crime. I believe that you're innocent." She pauses. "I also believe prison changes people."

"Without change, life is stagnant water waiting for someone or something to cast ripples in its surface."

"Yeah. Right."

"Are you scared of me?" There is no threat in his tone. If anything, she can hear in his voice a deep curiosity, almost like the one she feels about him.

She shakes her head. "Should I be?"

He looks at her for a long moment and she begins to wonder if she should have nodded 'yes'. His eyes venture over her, drinking her in and then settle on hers. "No," he says simply.


He stares at her a little longer and then nods, while she scrunches up her face in confusion. "That'll do."