<div class="floatleft"><div align="center">(http://www.mediafire.com/convkey/132c/qanv0vlare944wbzg.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Jaclyn Rosendahl</strong></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">Entrepreneur<br/><em>About Jaclyn</em> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=289408.msg14241614#msg14241614)<br/> ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ </span></span></div></div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… the jumpsuit is scratchy … try to ignore that … the light is bright … the cells around me are empty … hear a clanking and voices … voices giving orders … other women clad like me come into the cells around us … stare at me … the cell doors close … everyone has had dinner, I’m guessing … my stomach rumbles … nothing I can do without my phone …<br/><br/>… voices around me ask why I’m here … ‘visa stolen by some kids on the street’ … general sympathy … ask who arrested me … ‘Officer Dikembe?’ … looks of horror … ‘oh shit girl, not Dikembe’ … ‘she is deeper on the take than most cops’ … ‘nasty woman’ …<br/><br/>… a hush … a guard comes to my cell and shoves a tray under my cell door … ‘Dikembe sent this!’ … when she leaves, set the tray on my lap … a paper wrapped sandwich … cheese and bologna with ketchup on white bread … and milk in a waxed cardboard container … eat quietly … will have to last until morning I guess …</em></span></span>