In a lonely restaurant on Interstate 53, besides the staff, there were only two starters, Agent McClaren and a guy enjoying his lunch. A large hamburger with big chunks of Canadian bacon. With each bite, small strands of red and yellow dripped from the back of it. The ingredients melted in his mouth, creating an explosion on his palate that he had never felt before in his life.
The spices, juicy quarter pounder, tomatoes, lettuce, and crispy bacon created an array of flavors that activated his taste buds.
The cool strawberry milkshake condensed tiny crystalline droplets that trickled down the grooves of the overflowing glass of whipped cream.
Rays of sunlight streamed through the large window that separated them from the hot exterior. Clouds scurried across the blue sky beyond, contrasting with the terracotta of the massifs rising on the horizon.
His thin, wrinkled face did not convey any kind of resentment, instead, there was a halo of peace that could only be reflected in someone who had fulfilled his purpose in life.
A black van raised a small cloud of dust when it suddenly pulled up in front of the establishment; a pair of suited and black-glassed subjects jumped out of it with guns in their hands.
Agent McClaren raised his eyebrows and glanced at his watch.
"Took longer than I thought," he muttered.
The subject swallowed his chew and opened his big black eyes.
"Keep enjoying your burger," Agent McClaren insisted, giving no thought to the armed men about to enter.
He slowly rose from his seat and buttoned his suit coat.
The men burst in.
"We're here for the fugitive," they declared with grim faces.
"I'm aware," McClaren replied, nonchalantly, flashing his credential.
The subjects checked the credential and holstered their weapons.
"The subject deserves to enjoy his last lunch. If it weren't for him, the universe as we know it would be gone," McClaren explained.
One of the men left the restaurant to confirm by phone that they had found the fugitive.
In the meantime, McClaren returned to sit across from the subject again; he picked up the cup of tea in front of him and sipped some, tasting as if there was no tomorrow.
Upon finishing his delicacy, the stranger squeezed Agent McClaren's hand gently, grateful for his gesture of kindness.
The agents cuffed his hands and led him inside the van.
On the way to the penitentiary, the subject breathed his last.
Image from Beth Tuchinsky at Pixabay
