A woman who just spent 21 years in prison is released and has to grasp life in the "real" world and face her past. We'll see where this goes.
Imagine it. You're young and carefree. You have a future. The rest of your life. It stretches in front of you like an endless winding road, and it's bright, because you haven't fucked it up yet.
Imagine that you did something bad, real bad, just imagine. And imagine that to set you straight they take it all away. They take you to a long wood-paneled room, and they bang a gavel and give you a number and that's how much of your life you've lost. Bam. Just like that.
It doesn't take as long as they say it will, either. After a while you start to notice that time doesn't pass anymore. The days blur together into weeks, into months, into years. You change a little, grow older, but you're still the same, deep down where it doesn't matter. You meet some people, some like you, some less, and you watch them come and go. You write letters on paper, and when you run out of paper, on your arms and walls and mind. You never send them.
You start to freeze, and you forget that outside those white walls, on the other side of that high fence, there's a whole world out there that's changing, growing, and swelling with hope and recklessness and invincibility. You don't even miss it. And that's the worst thing.