They walk room to room, slowly gathering their numbers. Dim lights, hushed voices, and thick jackets mark their walk.

They walk down the stairs, barely speaking, they stand in a line before the door. Slowly, almost hesitantly, they step through the door.

A circle is formed and cigarettes are slowly passed out, the men shivering all the while. A lighter is passed through the group and soon they’re all puffing away. Snatches of conversation pass through, but the group is concerned with one thing only. One by one, cigarettes hit the floor as they begin longing for the heat of their home.

They turn to the door, waiting for keys to appear and open their gateway to their return from the cold. Footsteps pound on the dull stairs as the men slowly separate, exchanging quiet goodbyes.

They return to their cells, awaiting the passing of another day before they may gather again.