A blue paper cup of dark cafeteria coffee sat next to his keyboard.

“Visiting hours ended at eight o’clock,” the guard said without looking up from his monitor.

My mother let out a long, heavy sigh that rattled through her nose.

“I’m here to bring some very important supplies for my poor granddaughter,” she said.

She set the paper gift bag down on the counter ledge with a loud tap.

Inside the bag were three folded magazine articles and a small yellow knit hat she had picked up at a grocery store register.

“What’s the child’s last name?” the guard asked.