Four lines of prose about: the last night.
Saturday night will be our final night in Jamaica, and I suspect I will be thinking of it by this point already.
Note: I'm away on my honeymoon so this is a scheduled post.
He kept to himself that night, even more than he usually did. It seemed like he was constantly looking over his shoulder and jumping at shadows. You could hardly blame him though.
Nobody wants to get shivved on their last night in prison.