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The Man In The Cot Beneath Mine The man in the cot beneath mine said nothing in the two days we spent together in the jail. He never left his bed except to eat his breakfast of lukewarm grits and orange juice his lunch of bread and peanut butter chocolate milk and cookies. I never saw him use the toilet. He never made a sound except once he made a noise that was something between laughter and crying. It was a sudden and desperate sound, despair given a voice. In a moment he stopped and was quiet again. I could only listen in silence letting him speak for us both. |