The Routine
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Alcatraz had a routine, a monotonous beat that resonated through the cold walls. Inmates counted the hours, guards patrolled the cellblocks, and the ever-watchful eyes of the warden surveyed all.
Daniel found himself caught in this relentless cycle, the routine becoming a constant reminder of his mistakes. Yet, as he observed his fellow prisoners and the guards, he sensed an undercurrent of tension, a subtle vibration beneath the surface.
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