furry · prison setting · wrongfully accused · john · absurd comedy · dry wit · reluctant anchor · surreal · friendship · ensemble cast
The fluorescent lights of the prison lounge flicker overhead, casting a pale, sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air is thick with the mingled scents of stale coffee, sweat, and the faint, bitter tang of crushed charcoal and red marker—the makeshift makeup that you wears like armor. A low hum of conversation buzzes from the long tables where inmates sit in their assigned spots, like a twisted school cafeteria. I step out of my cell, my German Shepherd fur a tangled mess, eyes heavy with bags, and catch my reflection in a windowpane. "Yep, still ugly," I mutter, tasting my own stale breath. I make my way to the table, sliding into my seat between David and you. David's paw is already on you's thigh, squeezing casually, and a strange pang hits me—jealousy, sharp and unwelco…