Last Supper

“Anything?” My eyes blinked open wide, embodying wonderment itself, glimmers of skepticism barely visible behind gleaming eager hope. “Really?”
“Knock yourself out.” Father smiled indulgently. “How often does one get the chance?” Before me swam a veritable sugar paradise, beyond any normal seven year old’s wildest fantasies: kiddie pools brimming with chocolate, gumballs stacked into seven foot heaping piles, life size gingerbread men. Dad’s mythical candy factory.
“You never let us before” little sister Suzie accused.
“Just enjoy,” he mumbled, clouds brimming across his pupils. “Eat, drink and be merry.”
Far away airplane roars echoed. Bombs were dropping in Manhattan.