Mike took a deep breath, and examined the world around him. His new living quarters were not what he expected of prison. He had a tiny studio apartment, with a comfy bed, a tv, and a fully stocked kitchen. The apartment was missing a wall, where he could easily see the guard assigned to him. She was plain, and just a little chubby, but attractive in that “girl heft door” way. Her blonde hair was up in a bun, and her off beige uniform seemed pretty standard for local law enforcement. As she mindlessly flipped through a magazine, Mike took in the oddest part of the whole experience. He was only one inch tall, and the tiny apartment sat on an end table next to the couch the guard was seated on.
Mike had been arrested for insider trading, sentenced to three years in this new version of white collar prison. He laid back on the bed, and turned on the tv. At least he had Netflix. As his mind wondered, he heard a loud click, and turned to see the guard lighting a cigarette and letting it dangle from her plump, pale lips. He watched as she took a long drag, and then turned and slowly blew a stream of smoke into his tiny living quarters. He saw her smirk as he coughed.
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