"Why am I in prison?" Meems asked in a quiet, flat voice while pensively chewing on a tiny bite of a donut hole. Huh?! My brows wrinkled as I leaned in closer and asked, "What did you say, Mom?" Again, flat and matter of fact. "Why am I in prison?" Within a split second, I carefully overanalyzed her words. Did she feel trapped inside her atrophied little body? Had there been a brief clearing of the fog that swirls around in her cerebral cortex with bright rays of memory peak