took pictures of her without permission or spoke
to her slowly and too loudly, it seemed as if short stature meant less understanding.
He couldn’t control what people saw first.
But he could control what he allowed them to do with him.
Therefore, when the big prisoner bent in front of her and uttered another insult, Ralitsa did not think about how tall he was.
He was thinking about the protocol.
About the cameras.
For the people behind it.
For the rest of the employees.
And for the simple fact that in prison order is not maintained with who is bigger.
It is guarded by clear rules, consistency and a team that does not allow provocation to turn one person into the center of everything.
“For the last time,” she said. “Get back in line.”
The man was looking at her.
His name was Ivo Tashev.
He was
