I’m very close to finally getting my associate’s degree. In the meantime, I’m getting trained as a corrections officer at the Corrections Office... Training Academy down in the town of Boston. Life is good. When I lived in Haiti, I married my high school sweetheart, a tall and beautiful black woman named Janet. We raised a son together, Bernard Florestal. Shortly before I came to America, Janet was killed by some people during a riot at the nation’s capital, Port-Au-Prince. I can’t tell you how. Lauren was on the verge of protesting, but he said, “Please?”“Jesus!” she muttered under her breath. She pointed out the windshield. “Just you keep an eye on the road, mister!” She looked around at traffic again, then undid her seat belt. Shifting forward, she pulled off her jacket and laid it in her lap. Then, face red, she unbuttoned her blouse and undid the front clasp on the lacy black bra. Quickly looking around, she peeled the blouse and bra off her arms, then hurriedly stuck her arms. More

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