Last Supper

by solaris2001

He remembered sleeping, but if he’d dreamed at all, he’d lost them in a murky, endless ocean of distant and fractured memories. A shaft of violent light penetrated the slot in the door, casting an accusatory spotlight on his face. He thought he’d heard his name whispered painfully from somewhere far off as he rose, but he couldn’t be sure. They were bringing rare steak and roasted potatoes later because that’s what came to mind when they’d asked, but he doubted he’d enjoy them much. He wondered if he’d pray first or if the meal would pass in unforgiving silence.