Birds circled overhead as we graze at our picnic lunch. I start to wonder if those ravens are here for more, like me, considering this will be my dates last meal. I glanced at my neatly folded cloth napkin disguising my father’s hunting knife which was one of the few items he left behind after the accident. “I’m ready for cake!” My date exclaims as he reaches across the blanket. I whip my hand up, “no!” A smile forces its way up my right cheek, “let me cut that for you.”