Shift Starts

Lena parked in the staff lot and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Ponytail tight. Uniform straight. Badge clean. The shirt sat close across her chest. The pants followed the line of her hips too honestly. She tugged the hem down out of habit, knowing it would not matter.

The night air was cold when she got out. Gravel popped under her boots. Other officers were heading in, some talking, some already wearing that blank work face the job required. Lena fell in with them without speaking.

Inside, the first set of doors closed behind her with a heavy magnetic thump. Then the second. Then the third. Each one cut her a little further away from the outside world.

“Narrowmore,” the sergeant said as she signed in. “Upper tier tonight. Kane’s block is restless. Keep it tight.”

“Yes, sir.”

She clipped on her radio, checked her belt, and started the long walk toward intake and the inner gates. The corridors smelled like bleach, metal, and men. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Every few yards a camera watched her pass.

When the final gate rolled open onto the housing unit, the sound hit her all at once. Voices. Laughter. The metallic rattle of someone shaking a door. The heat of too many bodies packed into too little space.

Lena stepped onto the tier.

For a moment the noise dipped, the way it always did when a woman came into view. Then it rose again, sharper.

“There she is.”

“Damn, Narrowmore. You wear those pants to work or to get us through the night?”

“Look at that ass. Husband let you out the house looking like that?”

“Hey Narrowmore. They send you up here by yourself now? Budget cuts got us a private show?”

Lena kept walking. Eyes forward. Count first. Talk later. Never give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

But she felt it anyway, the weight of their stares sliding down her back, catching on her hips, lingering where her uniform was tightest. She passed the first few cells without slowing. Normally there would have been another officer at the far end, another set of eyes, another voice to split the attention. Tonight it was just her and the long stretch of cells.

Robinford had a way of making even ordinary nights feel like a test.