There’s no manacle on my leg, no bars on the doors, but this office has always had a way of making me feel captive all the same. Rows of empty desks...and bouncing screensavers sit beneath the ticking clock, whose longest hand waves in leisurely, torturous circles. A few rows over, the scrape of Jenna’s chair against the carpet breaks the still air. ‘You want a drink?’ she says over her shoulder, headed toward the break room. Her green jacket stops just above her waistline and I find myself. "Daddy, can I ask you a question in private. I know that's rude, Shawna, but if you'll excuse me a second?" "Sure, Sweetie." Stephie came over, and whispered in my ear that she would like to ask Shawna to come out for dinner at our house afterward, if it was OK with me. I said, "Sure, Baby, that's an excellent idea. Go ahead and ask her." "Shawna, we'd love to have you for dinner. I mean, we'd love to have you come for dinner. Oh, shit. I mean we would like to invite you over to have dinner. More

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