He wants a cheeseburger, with no mayo, and fries. He hates mayo. To my surprise, he eats most of the food. It’s the most I’ve seen him eat in a while, and somehow it feels like a rare achievement. A last meal he really could enjoy. In the morning, I go and get him a ham and cheese croissant from Burger King. He can’t eat anything after a certain time, or it could affect the drugs and slow things down.
The Revolutionist 