Syracuse, NY – March 7, 2013 For the first time in seven long years, Ryan was not wearing the hunter green button down shirt with the baggy elastic pants. Large stenciled letters did not mark him on his back nor a number above his right chest pocket. For once in the long years that have passed, he was almost free. The tracker securely locked around his right ankle. Until deemed otherwise, it will stay around his ankle until the Parole Officer thinks it’s unnecessary. He was Ryan Cooper again, not R-man or Cooper. Whatever stupid nicknames his mates had given him. That life that he had lived for the past seven years was over. Under no circumstances can he see his mates again but most of them are in that damn prison for life. The clothes he was arrested in are long gone, only the gray duffel bag in his right hand with a dozen denim jeans, crewneck sweatshirt, sweatpants, hoodie, web belts, and shirts both buttoned, V-neck and workout shirts. There is an assortment of color but Ryan hasn’t even looked in the bag yet. His most prized possession is his worn down leather jacket. He was reminded of limestone when he looks at it, the once smooth and pristine texture easily loose around his skinny arms. (http://www.lyst.com/clothing/7-diamo...emovable-hood/) All the doors were opening instead of closing, letting him out instead of shutting him in. These events confused Ryan, making him frown even though, internally, he couldn’t have been more overjoyed. His freedom is –almost- fully restored. Yet, the weight of the tracker latches onto his very soul. There is He is driven to the Parole Officers office and forced to answer questions as well as told what would happen from here on out. Ryan has to see her every single week, no questions. Not even knowing her name at first, he is to call her ma’am. Feeling powerless, Ryan abides, being warned that his life is in her hands. She has the power to send him right back to jail within a blink of an eye if he steps out of line. The two of them glare across the table at one another, waiting for his ride to pick him up. “A girl, my good friend, has generously offered to give you shelter so that you may start your own life once again, Mr. Cooper. Her name is Milly Walker. Don’t try anything or else you’ll be put behind bars perhaps even longer than the ten years you were to serve.” Her words are stern, the unwavering eyes like those of a prowling lioness. "Understood," Within the next breath, Ryan adds, "Ma'am." A knock comes at the office door and Ryan can feel his heartbeat stop, letting out a shallow breath. What will she be like? Pretty? Cruel? Judgmental? OCD? Talkative? Oh god... The officer easily slips from her chair, brushing her shoulder length brunette hair from her face and nearly jogging to open the oak door.