“…She wasn’t even a real model… she was a hand model.”

The girl nods unenthusiastically at my words, starting down at her feet. I really don’t think she’s listening to a word I’m saying, but I continue to talk because it takes a way some of my nervousness.

“So basically I ended up sleeping in my car for two nights…. I mean it was a nice car, but really, who’d wanna spend a night in a car. Do you know how painful that is?”

The woman jumps off of the top bunk, steps towards me, and looks me square in the eye.

“You should be glad you had a car to sleep in, some of us ain’t so lucky.”

She takes a step back, returning to her place on the top bunk. When I’m sure she’s paying me no attention my eyes scan her broken figure and worn clothes, immediately feeling bad for complaining about my past when she’s obviously been through much more. For a moment I consider apologizing, after a quick second I decide against it, knowing the last thing she’d want is a pity party.

I’m not sure what to say. So I simply take a seat on the small metal, one person bench, propping my feet up against the lower bunk. Soon my legs begin to shake in time with the constant drip of the sink. It’s not long before the woman above looks down in annoyance.

“Could you stop? You’re shaking the bed.”

My legs immediately stop their movements. Looking up at the woman I shoot her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, nervous habit.”

This seems to spark her interest. She sits up on the bed maneuvering herself so her legs are dangling over the edge.

“What are you nervous about?”

I look around the small uncomfortable area, pointing as I answer her question.

“I’ve never been in jail before.”

She nods her head in understanding. Silence washes over us for a few moments before I work up the nerve to continue the conversation.

“What’re you in for?”

Her nearly black eyes dart down to meet mine. They study me for a moment, almost as if she’s deciding weather or not she should tell me.