by Arcadia Hudson

Created on: November 05, 2008

Mrs. Foster slid the white potatoes into the oven and closed the door. She pulled off the thick oven mitt, and set it on the green blue speckled countertop. Over the years that countertop has been used for so many things. When her son James was a baby with a toothless smile and fat hands, he would eat at that spot. More food ended up on her clothes than in his stomach.

Later, whenever she would cook a cake, he would sit there watching her with attentive brown eyes. And even later, he would set bowls and measuring spoons there when working on a culinary project of his own. Now, the only thing on that special corner of the counter is a digital clock with glowing red numbers. Mrs. Foster watched as the numbers changed to 5:30.

-Hope he comes home on time.

To James, time was everything. His hands gripped tightly around his car's steering wheel as he backed into a space at one of his favorite discount stores. He had many favorite types of stores: gas stations, apparel, supermarketshe never was a fan of restaurants or banks especially. Banks aren't even stores. They just give out money, and he wasn't into that. After shutting off the car, he sat for awhile. His fidgety fingers played with the silver metal stud in one of his ears. His thin lips pulled tight.

-What did I come for again?

He usually had to remind himself what he came for. Shopping was so exhilarating, he often would forget. Besides, what he was going to do was much more important than the actual purchase.

Mrs. Foster methodically set the table. Fork, spoon, and knife to the right. A delicate glass etched with square patternsto the left. Salt, pepper, and other condiments go to the center of the table. James always liked to put salt and pepper on his beans. He said that it made them taste better. He always had a hard time swallowing food that was good for him.

Mrs. Foster sat in her spot at the end of the little table. The base of it was solid oak, and it had a glass top. Her son had bought the table. He claimed that it was a refurnished antique, and it cost him a bit of money. She only prayed that he was telling the truth. She wouldn't dare ask him.

The clock glowed 6:00.

James periodically checked his watch, trying to look normal and mix in with the store crowd. He noticed the time.

-I hope mom leaves dinner on the stove.

He walked the aisles, putting on the appearance of just a curious shopper. He walked through the book and magazine section, picking up novels, reading the back, and putting them back down as

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