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elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending
death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies
wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
Downstairs, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen, where if not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were dozens of warm, freshly baked cookies.
Is this heaven? Or is this one final act of love from his wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
He threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of warm chocolate was already in his mouth. With a trembling hand he reached his hand up to the edge of the table, which was suddenly smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
"Back off!" she said. "Those are for the funeral."
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