Jan asked, for what Ron decided was the fourth time. He shook his head. “It wasn’t fun, but they didn’t hurt me.” He recalled, also for the fourth time, his urine bag overflowing on the floor of the cell. Nothing he could do about it, so he’d thought he was way past feeling shame. But he’d blushed when the guards went for the mop, blushed like a kid wetting himself in first grade. No, Jan didn’t need to know that part. “I was okay,” he repeated, careful to keep the edge out of his voice. At least his attendant had cleaned him up before Jan was released. His bowel evacuation was also overdue, so Andrew had a few choice things to say when he did the rubber glove thing, but Jan didn’t have to know about that either. Jan leaned over and touched his cheek. “You shaved,” she said softly. Ron inclined his head, accepting her euphemistic use of the active voice. When her bony fingers reached his lips, he pursed them into a light butterfly kiss that brought a smile to Jan’s wan face.
