The Last Supper

One of my favorite, but painful memories.

The last Supper

            The static silence between us seemed to last a lifetime. He sat quietly with his arm around me.

            I poked at my food, consumed by own my thoughts. I’d tuned out my surroundings. The noise of the food court. The ticking of the watch on a chain around my neck. Scarcely aware of his loving gaze.

            “Babe…” he said quietly.

            “Hmmm….”

            “Babe…you’re not eating…” his voice a mixture of love and worry.

            “I’m not hungry anymore.” My voice was barely a whisper.

            “Just a few bites. You haven’t eaten all day, please for me.”

            I smiled feebly and took a few bites of my fries only to realize, I couldn't hold them down.

            “Wow…you’re really not hungry. Please…tell me what’s wrong.”

            A tear slid down my cheek. He wiped it away and tilted my chin just right, so that our lips would meet.

            I was no longer in control. “I don’t want you to go…” I sobbed, desperately clinging to him. He pulled me into his arms. So loving. So gentle. “Believe me it’s the hardest thing I've ever had to do.”

            I cried. I didn't care if anyone looked, because in that moment, in that one precious moment. He was all that mattered.

Author's Note

This piece is titled what it is for 2 reasons.
1. couldn't think of anything better
2. This is based on the last time me and my boyfriend hung out before he moved to Orlando.
hmmm....welll 3
3. when you think of The Last Supper, you may think their was a lot of sorrow and love and love present. Whelp there was a bunch of that when the event in this story occurred, too.