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May 31, 2003
Three months later, and I have this favorite fantasy. I daydream that my father and Mr. Calloway share the same cell. They sit across from each other on their bunks, my father leaning against the cool of the concrete wall, legs dangling; Mr. Calloway lying on his side, legs curled against him. This time together allows them both to learn about love as I have. And my father mentions my name again, and Mr. Calloway smiles and self-consciously chuckles to himself. And the two of them spend their day regaling each other with memories of how much they loved me.