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Gerald Petievich

Copyright © 1981 by Gerald Petievich

Smashwords Edition

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To Pam



June 9

Larry Phillips, a diminutive man who in attire other than Leavenworth Federal Prison denims might look like a bespectacled young college professor, had been waiting in line for two hours signing forms, turning things in. He was holding a small cardboard box that contained the contents of his cell.

A hound jowled guard with a jagged scar circling one of his eye sockets stood behind a metal counter. He gave a little nod. Phillips stopped forward to a white line on the floor. The guard's lips barely moved as he spoke. "Put the box down on the counter," he said. "Take off your trousers and blouse and drop 'em in the hamper behind you." He slammed a plastic bag down on the counter. "These are the civies you came in with. Put 'em on."

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