Leftovers

He set his utensils down with a satisfied sigh, finishing off the last of his ginger ale with a slurp. Leaning back in the chair, he gave a smile to the polite young man in uniform as he came to collect the plate.

“You didn’t eat all your main course.” The man said gently, his hand hovering near the plate. “Are you sure you don’t want to finish it up?” There was still plenty of fries and fried chicken on the plate, as well as a side of green beans that were barely touched.

“I’m all right, thanks. Save the leftovers.” He replied with an easygoing wave of his hand.

“And what about your dessert?” Came the next question, pointing to the tasty looking slice of lemon meringue pie sitting on a separate plate.

All he could do was chuckle. “Save it for later, for me.” He winked, watching the now pale-faced man leave before two more in uniform came in.

“It’s time.”

Nodding, he pushed back his chair and rose up, the chains around his wrists and ankles jangling, even as the ankle chains dragged on the floor. Each guard took one of his arms, leading him out of the cell.

“Dead man walking!” One of his guards called out, his voice echoing down the corridor and through the other cells.  “Dead man walking, here.”

He turned his head to the jailer who had served him his last meal, grinning as he fixed him with a long, intense stare. “Make sure you save my food, man. Gonna be -real- hungry in a bit.”

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