A Meal to Remember

Jim's eyes took in the massive feast assembled before him. He grabbed his fork and knife and greedily tore into a massive stack of buttermilk pancakes. They were light and fluffy, drowning in butter and maple syrup. They tasted so good an involuntary moan escaped his lips.

Jim had not had pancakes since his boys brought him breakfast in bed for father's day. They had taken in a ballgame at the Stadium after. It was unbelievable. A rare perfect game. Although that was years ago, and his boys were grown men now with families of their own, the memory of that perfect day still brought a smile.

Jim reached out and plucked a cinnamon roll off a tray. The cinnamon scent permeated the room. Jim stuffed the treat in his mouth and contentedly licked the icing from his fingers. His mom always used to make cinnamon rolls as a special treat. Birthdays. Christmas. The first (and only) A on his report card. Grabbing another roll, Jim thought he should have been a good boy more often so he could have enjoyed more of these delicious creations.

Jim dug into scrambled eggs and bacon. The bacon was still hot and crisp. The eggs just as he liked them, savory with cheddar cheese, mushrooms and ham.

Scrambled eggs and bacon always made him think of his dad. The man LIVED on that meal, happily foregoing just about everything else. "Breakfast is the best meal of the day," he used to say. "And so it should be enjoyed all day." When it got too expensive for his dad to fund his egg habit at the store, he decided to raise chickens so he would have an unlimited supply at his disposal. Jim wasn't sure how the finances worked out better since his dad spent a bloody fortune in chicken feed and coops and all...

Jim tried to pretend that he wasn't already full, wanting this meal to last forever. He set his sights on a huge bowl of fruit next. Tart grapefruit. Sweet cantaloupe. Fresh pineapple. Jim dug in with gusto. Then he grabbed a fistful of grapes and leaned back in his seat. He loved the pop as his teeth pierced the flesh of each grape.

Cynthia had liked to feed him grapes.

It hadn't seemed like that long ago... The night was supposed to be perfect. She deserved a perfect night.

Jim left work early to set the scene. Candles. Wine. Her favorite meal. And a small black velvet box with the most beautiful diamond earrings Jim had ever laid eyes on. He couldn't afford them. But his rare beauty deserved these beauties... There was no guilt about what he had to do to acquire them.

Jim shook a cigarette loose from the pack on the table and took a long drag. There was no guilt about anything that had happened that night... Remorse was a concept which always seemed to escape him.

The guard appeared out of nowhere, shaking Jim out of his memories. "You ready?" he asked. Jim rose carefully, the shackles around his ankles making movement difficult. He held out his arms and the handcuffs were reapplied. "How was your meal, prisoner?" The guard didn't care about the response, but was just making idle conversation as they made their way down the hallway.

Jim smirked. "My compliments to the chef. It was a meal to remember."

Cynthia always used to say the same thing at the end of the meal. As an aspiring chef, she always hoped to hear the words from customers at her own restaurant one day. But she would never have that chance now.

Her sentiments seemed somehow fitting on this occasion, the finale to his last meal.

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This week's theme was "breakfast." Check out the other Theme Thursday posts here.