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They moved her two more times before she was assigned to the Funny Skull Depeche Mode Fuck Coronavirus Shirt bed on which she sat and waited. Three weeks passed. She watched other girls make collect calls or get bags of candy and pretzels and chips from commissary once a week. They moved in packs like animals, their socializing as primitive and peculiar as canines sniffing each other’s rear ends and barking in displays of dominance or approval. The stronger preyed on the weak in there. Some held hands and kissed or shared their beds. Others fought to defend absurd notions of honor. She barely spoke. They left her alone.