In the grimy hues of a 00s jail cell, Rose Thomas, a woman with brown skin and pink hair cascading down her shoulders, sat. Her large breasts heaved under a tanline, a remnant of a carefree summer. A single tear trailed down her cheek, as she glanced at the AI-generated image of herself, nude but for a smile that could light up the darkest corners. The cell's bars cast long shadows across her spread legs, a contrast to the lens flare from the memory of a night before - the warm embrace of passion, cum pooling within the folds of her spread pussy, the sweet taste of pussy juice mingling with the bittersweet taste of tears. The room echoed with the lingering scent of sex and the weight of what had transpired.