Be A Lady

She picked her coat off the ground to tie around her waist. Four hairy knuckles peeked through dead winter grass, unearthing a shallow grave. Fingers trembling, she dialed 911, fighting instinct to run.

Coincidence turned to accusation, leading to trial and death sentence. She wanted to appeal, but family advised against it. She should take punishment without complaint, like a good girl.

Her mother, shamed and embarrassed, still agreed to prepare her favorite supper. A squeaky wheeled cart brought the last food she’d ever eat. Her mother refused to enter her cell.

The cover lifted off a silver tray revealed steaming lasagna. “Mom, this isn’t my favorite meal, it’s Diane’s.”

“This took a lot of work. Quit bitching and eat it.”

She always listened when told to be quiet. Why stop now? She unfolded her napkin, lifted the fork, and took the first bite of her last meal.