The words. They arrived singularly, in pairs, in groups. They never even bothered to knock; just strode in through the hardwood doorway or slipped through the gap in a window someone had cracked open in a futile attempt to counter those stifling summer afternoons. Took advantage. Kept their shoes on. Lit their cigarettes. Rolled up their sleeves and made fists. Laughed, danced, seduced, bawled their eyes out. I became their captive and, whether they cried as some did or whether they gloated as others did, we all understood one thing: this was a life sentence.