They had given him what they called his last meal, but it wasn’t really. It was just food. Meals are for free men.
As they strap him down onto the table, Danny remembers his last meal. He had it in a little roadside diner right before all the trouble started—right before the end began.
That was a long time ago now. Twelve years of trials and appeals. Too long. He was ready for it to be over now. It will be over in a minute or two. They are prepping the injection site now and Danny is thinking about that hamburger. Someone says something to him, they ask about regrets. He thinks about that for a moment. He feels the sting of the needle in his arm. Continue reading “Flash Fiction Challenge: Last Meal”
