As I think about what I've eaten, it makes me feel as if I've done time. That society has branded me someone who has done unforgivable things. The worst things a person could ever do, to end up eating the most lesser of foods. I began with culinary excellence, food that is home cooked. Food that is regarded as healthy and well-made. Then, at some point in my life, my nutrition got worse, and I ended up with cheap foods.
... and I think the last one of all my meals, the most vivid one I remember... this single tray of food. A blue tray with all of it separated. The most crispy of meat in the main, large part of the tray... with bits of yellow and creamy yellow surrounding a sweet, brown, colorful confection. It was the one thing that reminded me of the old days, a middle ground between my two diets...
And I thought to myself... it was a meal that is fit for a last request, really.
I believe my last meal was a last request, a request I've made because I was sentenced to die. Maybe I was on death row, one of the prisoners that did something really bad. Bad enough that the world would want me to be put away, to take me away. To make me pay for the crimes I've committed. The jail gave me this food to honor that I had lived, in spite of the things I've done. A pure act of humanity in these trying times... when all the goodness in this world is dead.
I wonder to myself if life, if my role in society could have gone any differently, that I wouldn't have needed to be put to death in such a way. If I did anything to change my fate and change the world, if I could have done one small act of good that would have prevented me from doing the countless acts of bad in my wake.
Ah, if only.
But my fate is sealed with that last of meals... an admission that I was too far gone. That the world had given up on me, and I was ready to give up on the world too.
"And... yeah. That brings me to now," the ghost tells Yvette, sighing as he rests his face in his two salt and pepper covered hands. "I believe the condiments, these- bits of salt and pepper are meant to cement my soul as a good soul, tainted by corruption. My life a long sequence of meals, worsening more and more, with my very last request cementing my fate as a-"
"Kid Cuisine," Yvette bluntly comments.
"... what?" the ghost asks.
"Your last meal. You're describing Kid Cuisine," Yvette explains. "Like, one of those- grocery store TV dinners. You put it in the microwave and- it comes out and... yeah. Kid Cuisine."
The two of them sat in the train headed to the Center of Nihil. Both of them sitting with backs against ash gray cushions, with the back of their seats against walls. Two of many simply sandwiched in the ghost-filled train car, the pure grayscale scenery passing by them through the spacious train windows.
Not a voice in the train car speaks, except for Yvette and this ghost, and... well. Yvette has been listening to the ghost for the last 10 minutes, thinking to herself: this ghost is really, REALLY a child in denial.
One after the other, this entire impromptu ghost vent session became a cycle of what food this ghost had over a long period of time, cementing the fact that food is a huge, major aspect of the ghost's life. It was a bunch of meals, so on and so forth, and Yvette did not have a single moment to get a word in about this "child" theory of hers.
The first one was a little hard, because meatloaf could be enjoyed by anyone... but once Yvette made the connection, this is very easily explained.
Some bit of history trivia: in the late 1900s, meatloaf WAS the family dinner. Simple, cost effective, could feed an entire family. So its popularity skyrocketed alongside televisions, often cooked by housewives to be enjoyed.
From there, bacon and eggs. Sure, it isn't a child meal, but it's still totally something a mom would make for a kid.
After these two, it grew so much easier to pinpoint the theme of childhood. Marshmallow cereal? Child food. Celery, peanut butter, raisins? "Ants in a log", healthy children's snack. Grilled cheese, possible child lunch- jelly filled donuts, child dessert!
Every- single- last- bit of food this ghost listed? These were all meals a parent would make for a child. And at the very end, this ghost has, word for word, described himself eating a microwaved Kid Cuisine convenience store meal - KID CUISINE, aka literally child food. It is his most VIBRANT memory, like the most prominent and recent one. He remembers, exactly, that it's his last meal and is the culmination of all his meals.
He is a child.
In denial.
Sure, he doesn't LOOK like one, but that's the point of being a LITERAL AMNESIAC SOUL. With not a memory to his missing name, Yvette really does feel like this ghost is just some pretentious child trying to act more grown up than he actually is.
"... I-" the ghost noises, an offended- OFFENDED look on his face after Yvette dared to suggest that. His voice noticeably... quiet... as he speaks up in protest at this fact. "... I- feel as if you're making this up. The tray seemed more prison themed than a mere microwaved meal... it has to be-"
"A blue, vibrant blue prison tray? No, you- you literally described word-for-word a Kid Cuisine Meal, right out of the packaging," Yvette objects, shutting the ghost down before he makes up some crap about a hypothetical special death row inmate tray. "In fact, I should ask. When it was served to you, did it- happen to have plastic wrapping still stuck to the tray?"
The ghost narrows his eyes further. "... I mean, I... it... uhm..." Pausing for a bit and- dodging the question. "... what exactly do you know about the packaging to make that claim? Like, it could be any meal that-"
"It is specifically: the Kid Cuisine All Star Nuggets meal with 14 grams of protein," Yvette recites in an almost monotone voice, hand on the side of her cheek and reading this off word for word. "Coming with white meat chicken patties, macaroni and cheese, corn, and a fudge brownie with celebration sprinkles."
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"... y... you-" the ghost noises, his- his face becoming more strained as Yvette is actually- describing- word for word the meal in question. The meal was a Kid Cuisine... "W-Well, that... it doesn't-"
Yvette continues reciting, almost out of spite to rub it in. "Scan & Play, Basketball Game. 1.5 by 1.5 inches of a black QR Code on an orange background. See back to learn-"
"Okay, ENOUGH!" the ghost shouts. "I- If you're not going to take me seriously, then I don't even know why I approached you! Isn't it your job to listen to our plights, write it down in that notebook of yours and-"
Oh, here he goes again... "You are- partly right, but... see, that's only part of my job," Yvette blurts out, taking a really- REALLY strict tone. A more casual tone than how she's professionally supposed to speak. "The reason I listen in the first place is to help you discover who you were in life. I'm not here to blindly listen to you like a yes-man and assume everything you say is correct, dude."
The ghost glares at Yvette angrily, like a petulant child. "That doesn't disregard what I do remember...! You're focusing heavily on-"
"On the food, right? I'm focusing heavily on the food?" Yvette asks, snapping back. "Well, let me ask you: what part of anything you said indicates you're a death row criminal?"
"The tray of food that-" the ghost begins to speak, before his eyes widen. "That-"
"Yeah, okay, mhmm, what else? Do you remember anything about what you did? Any crimes?" Yvette asks.
"Well, I may have- uhm ... I... uhm... uh..."
The Kid Cuisine eating ghost just... blinks for a moment as he stares at his own hands, as it dawns on him that Yvette has a point. Nothing about his memories so far gives off prisoner, beyond the meal. He is a soul as pure as day, with naught an act of malice in his deceased heart.
The train car remains quiet as Yvette stares at this ghost, as her red gaze locks onto this ghost and she has the most passive-aggressive "Yeah? Mhmm? Go on" look on her face. A slight pout with the right corner of her mouth put into a smile, staring with some minor spite.
"... uhm... i-if I may- chime in?"
Right in front of them, the ghost that Yvette had previously spoken to. The one that seemed like he was made of sand, died in sand, and had his whole vent session all about sand. A patient, kind smile on his face as he wanted to- chime in on this discussion.
"Yes, please- go ahead," the Kid Cuisine enjoyer tells the sand guy. "What do you have to say about it?"
The sandy ghost clears his throat, collecting his thoughts for a moment as a trail of sand falls from the corner of his mouth. "... well, have you ever considered that those feelings of being in a prison are... symbolic? Like, a metaphor?"
"A... A metaphor? Of what?" asks the Kid Cuisine enjoyer.
"Well, I had thoughts of chicken, of the sand on my back and arms being the outer layer of a fried chicken, like I had told Miss... uhm...?"
"... Jolivette," Yvette responds, just bluntly stating her last name to the ghost.
"Right, Miss Jolivette," the sandy ghost continues. "Maybe your thoughts of a prison could be... you, not enjoying your life? Feeling like you lived in a prison? Trapped and enclosed in this cycle you were born into? I know not of your life, but perhaps your feelings of being a prisoner, a death row inmate, could possibly mean-"
"ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS... WE ARE NOW COMING UP ON [NIHIL CENTRAL]."
Yvette blinks for a moment as she looks up, hearing the intercom speak. Its voice all gravely and ghastly, as the train was being run by something that is also dead. Not exactly a soul that once lived, no... it was some sort of- construct? A skeletal construct, just a walking bunch of bones with rib cages and skulls and stuff.
The Grim Reaper often enlists the help of skeletons to do menial tasks, like- run trains and stuff. On one tier below normal souls, pure skeletons are less "conscious" of their existences and simply aim to do what they're told and instructed. This one in particular is the Train Skeleton, and he speaks in a ghastly and gravely voice.
"Ah- look at that, we're coming to our next stop," defensively speaks the Kid Cuisine enjoying ghost, getting up from his seat and floating away as Yvette was thinking about the Train Skeleton. "We should continue this conversation some other time. Yes and thank you."
"Huh?" the sandy ghost noises. "Wait, but we didn't finish-"
"Yes, we'll continue it later," Yvette interrupts, looking to the sandy ghost and- clearing her throat. "Our stop is coming up and all... right?"
"... oh." A few nods from the sandy ghost, picking up Yvette's cue to stop.
With that, the Kid Cuisine ghost is now out of sight, probably headed off to a different train car altogether to get away from Yvette.
Afterwards, more silence formed in the train car as the train pulls into the station, Yvette just- letting out a calming breath as she's finally left by her lonesome. Leaning back into the chair, and- ... and seeing the sandy ghost getting up from his seat to actually sit next to her, now that a seat's opened up.
Yvette blinks as he does this, but- well, apart from his lengthy sand descriptions annoying her a little, Yvette doesn't actually have a problem with this guy. In fact, after that petulant child and/or man-child talked to her, Yvette can honestly say the sand guy's growing on her a little. Kinda feels nice to hear him talk about things that are not sand related.
She does wonder when this guy's examination is gonna happen, so she can call him something other than Sand Guy, or-
"So- Miss Jolivette-?" Sand Guy begins to speak, wanting to ask a question.
Yvette blinks a couple of times and looks to the ghost, nodding and- interrupting. "You can just call me Yvette."
"Oh! Okay. Well, Yvette-" the ghost continues. "I am quite new to... being dead. What is it that happens at this- Nihil Central?"
Yvette blinks for a moment, and immediately- IMMEDIATELY realizes... oh god, she's going to have to be a tour guide.
Yvette wonders if there's an excuse, if she can make an excuse up to not show this guy around. Any sort of excuse should work. Maybe she has to do some professional stuff with the Death Journal? Probably needs to go to the restroom, the private one on the third floor of the main building? Maybe-
...
Wait.
Wait, if she- just so happened to be giving this ghost a tour of Nihil Central...
... then no other ghost would be able to come up to her and vent, right?
Yvette would be able to just- eat in peace, just get some food and do a bunch of stuff and not have to wait around for an amnesiac to vent to her. This ghost will be her ticket to having a- having a metaphorical free day off! A-And she could lie and make up an excuse about how she isn't and won't be doing anything, because it's all to help the memory of this sandy ghost! Special, deep, thorough care to help this amnesiac!
Sure, there's probably something risky about doing this without telling the Grim Reaper first, but like... but like, it's worth the risk! Yvette's now determined to do this.
Yvette looks at the sandy ghost for a moment with the kindest look on her face, smiling warmly and ever so cheerfully. "Well, there's a lot to do at Nihil Central, a lot more than my realm! I don't think you'd get enough from me just, like... talking about it!"
"Oh?" the sandy ghost asks. "A lot?"
"Mhmm! So, it's your lucky day, you're getting a personal Yvette tour of the place!" Yvette suggests to the ghost, a proud look on her face as she really, REALLY prepares to go fully forward with this plan. "Tour Guide Jolivette, at your service!"
The ghost claps his hands together, excitedly beaming. His face lighting up with a strange amount of joy and happiness, his dusty face never looking any cleaner. "Oh! How kind of you! Thank you, Miss- uhm- Tour Guide Jolivette!" he exclaims.
Yvette smiles and smirks at this. Full title and everything.
And she's totally thinking this to be the best coincidental plan she's ever had, ever...