Someone came into my cell once. She had gray hair and a smile like a continent. I smiled back at her. 

"You don't want him," someone said. That Someone. I don't think he liked anything.  

"Oh? Why not?" 

Her voice reminded me of syrup, even though I'd never tasted it. I imagined it when she talked. I imagined the things they eat for breakfast, somewhere else. I imagined the Somewhere Else. 

"He's crotchety," said Someone. His keys jangled. "He's old. Nipped at a young one, once." 

"I see." 

She didn't come back.