She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. The smell was similar but not the same, not right somehow. She had hoped that recreating that meal would help bring back the memory of that perfect day; that the tastes and the aromas would help bring back that perfect moment in time.
Breakfast in bed, the idea always seemed so cliché to her; and she probably would have gone on thinking that way if he hadn’t come thru the door carrying that tray that morning. Seeing him there, standing before her, holding that tray with that silly grin on his face…he had surprised her and was so proud of himself. In an instant he had changed her mind forever about sappy clichés, and now she wanted that moment back, that one and no other.
It would have worked if she could have prepared things herself, but that wasn’t allowed. Instead she had to settle for what they brought her, and they had gotten something wrong.
She kept her eyes closed; the memory she wanted was there, so close but just out of reach, hanging there in that foggy area just beyond her grasp, hazy but still identifiable, like a picture with no details….and it was the details that she wanted. She wanted to remember everything from that morning just the way it had been, the warmth of his body as it pressed against hers, the salty way his skin tasted, the way his scent lingered all around her. The crisp sheets felt cool against her skin as she lay wrapped in his arms. She had never felt like this before, she had never been with a man and afterward felt like she was being adored instead of feeling like she had just been possesed….was this love? Whatever it was she liked it and never wanted it to stop.
“Times up.” the voice was harsh and abrupt, it startled her and caused her to open her eyes, and as soon as she did it all slipped away. “What’s wrong, didn’t like it?” he asked as he removed the plastic tray of food that had barely been touched from in front of her.
He left with the food, and she closed her eyes once again but this time there was nothing there. She exhaled deeply, now all she could do was wait. This would be her last day on death row; tomorrow she would be executed for killing the man that she had loved….if only he hadn’t tried to leave that morning.
word count: 420
written for: The Speakeasy #134