“Last Meals” by Thomas Raiford

Fall 2025 Winner in Prose

The day we sat and watched the world end was a nice one. We had a picnic.

We hadn’t talked in a while. We hadn’t felt the need to. But, the weather was lovely, so I called you. You were excited on the phone, more excited than I expected. It was strange hearing your voice again. It seemed so far and so close. I was scared. Not because of the sirens or the screams. I was scared to see you again.

You asked where, and I told you the beach. It seemed fitting to watch the world end on the beach. There’s something so poetic about it. Behind you, the chaos of it all unfolded. Buildings crowded each other, cars stood still and screamed, and people ran, like ants fleeing a flooding hill. Before you, the sea stretched beyond your view. There’s a similar chaos of the waves crashing against each other, rising and falling with the tide, but it’s made quiet by its scope. To you, it’s rhythmic, relaxing, and real. To me, its visceral, vexing, and vast.

I knew it was you coming by the sound. You walk as if you’re floating, as if the world you carry weighs no more than a feather. I trudge. I thud. I drag my feet, and I ache and groan. But I heard you, amidst it all. You were wearing a yellow dress that day. It was beautiful; it made the beach and the ocean seem dull by comparison. I don’t quite remember what I wore, probably a wrinkled T-Shirt and some shorts with a drawstring. I’m sure it felt inadequate. You sat down and greeted me. You had a basket with you, the kind you see in picture books. You
asked me if I had brought the drinks. I hadn’t. You teased me. I laughed.

We heard a dull boom in the distance, and it seemed as good a time as any to start. You took out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the kind we used to make. They were cut in half, split down the middle to make 2 triangles, one for you, one for me. I bit into it, and you handed me an apple. It seemed absurd, to worry about my fruits and veggies now, but I looked at you and there were tears in your eyes. The humor died in my throat.

We sat there for a while, listening to the waves. My mind raced to say something,
everything, and nothing. It all seemed to matter now, what we said to each other. And it didn’t before? It seemed unfair. The waves kept coming, like a metronome counting down a performance.

“What would you have for your last meal?” you croaked, your voice raw, a small smile on your face.

I looked back at you, baffled, but your smile urged me to respond. Forcing a pompous British accent, I told you: “I suppose I would have the Beef Wellington.”

You chortled. “Do you even know what Beef Wellington is?” you asked.

“How dare you!” I laughed, my voice rising to a falsetto. “I’ll have you know, I—” A
second boom sounded on the horizon. This time, we could see the cloud farther up the coast. The wind picked up and the waves grew louder. But I still heard your laughter.

“I think I’d have PB&J’s with you,” you added, picking up your half, “with strawberry jelly, of course, and an apple, lest we see the doctor.” I toasted my sandwich to that. I wanted to ask you how you’d been, but it seemed a waste of a question. It seemed like something you say to fill the silence on an elevator ride. I didn’t need to fill anything. I just needed to be here.
“Where would you even get an apple?” I asked.

“Well, I’d probably have it,” you told me.

“But if you didn’t?”

“Well, I guess have to buy it!”

“So you spend your final hours at Walmart?”

“More like Whole Foods.”

“I suppose that’s better. Though you probably should’ve just had an apple to begin with.”

“I DID!” you laughed. There were tears in your eyes, but they were different. I tried to read you, but I couldn’t. I was never very good at it. You noticed and you told me you were happy. I believed you.

A third boom thundered and the air warmed. We laid back and looked up at the sky.

“I don’t suppose we ever would have been satisfied,” you told me. “It never would’ve been perfect. People never are.” I stayed silent. You continued, “And yet, I’m grateful for it all. There was more we could’ve said, should’ve said, didn’t say. But I’m grateful for it all.”

And we laid there. We didn’t hear the fourth boom or any waves. We just laid there.