{#63 Word count 200. You are on death row. Describe in detail your final meal}

It arrived on a styrofoam plate but even that couldn’t diminish my delight. The bacon wrapped filet, prepared medium rare, was the most perfect piece of bovine excellency I had ever laid eyes on. (It could nearly be cut with my fork, but I had been allowed a plastic knife for the occasion). Paired with a two pound sweet potato, dripping with cinnamon butter and brown sugar, I couldn’t get it in my mouth fast enough. There was spinach maria too, creamy, cheesy, salty, and steaming. I sunk my fork into the shallow dish and watched the cheese stretch. A marvel.

I gulped the sweet tea and reveled in memories of decades ago, on my momma’s porch, before everything went so wrong. Mama tried. Lord, she tried.

The roll I requested was hefty with quality grains and yeast. I slathered it with butter and didn’t look up except to eye the turtle cheesecake patiently waiting for me with a glass of milk.

I took my time, relishing in every bite, savoring the texture and all the flavors.

Bless the hands that prepared it, and the farmers that grew it. Let them never know the evil that I had in me.