Pausing a second to get her bearings, she spotted the reception desk and ran towards it calling in a loud voice.“I’m sorry, I’m late, I’m sorr..., don’t hurt my family”.The woman behind the desk, a woman of about 40 with her dark hair pulled into a loose knot and wearing the black and white uniform of the Department of Corrections, looked up slowly from behind the desk and stopped typing.“Name?” she snapped.“Kayleigh McEnany”.“You are late,” the Department of Corrections woman said “I was just. I have to vacate the room during the day, as if I'd stay there any longer than I have to.As it's Monday, I visit the jobcentre. A pointless exercise, but if I don't go there every week my support cheque gets stopped and I would have to leave the 'comfort' of my room. Comfort, ha! As usual, I am told that they have nothing for me. I am told in such a way as to leave me in no doubt that there would never be anything for me.So I wander the streets and dream. I no longer hope, that has long gone;. More

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