The Final Word

She looked me in the eye as I ate: stared me out. At least the food was good: grillsteak, fries, chillies.

“Where’d you put ‘em?” she asked, clockwatching.

Mouthful.

“You gonna tell me? Family needs closure.”

Another forkful. Two hours to the chair. My final meal was to be savoured, despite the chafing cuffs.

“Nope.”

 

Mark Brown.

The Final Word is a post from: Adventure and Learning