Everything hurt .... his head, his neck, his regrets.
He had elderly diseases no-one had even thought of naming yet.
He was sitting in his room when an aroma hit his nose.
The scent of chocolate chips in fresh-baked cookie dough.
"Did I die and go to heaven?," he thought.
He truly didn't know.
"I wonder how I can find out if I'm dead or I'm alive?"
He asked this question aloud to himself,
and then he sighed.
He maneuvered his wheelchair to the edge of the table
as well as he was able. The cookies beckoned.
Might as well try one, he reckoned.
He reached, he dared....
but his wife appeared from out of nowhere,
slapped his hand with a spatula... OUCH!
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He said, "I want one! They're beautiful!"
"Don't touch!" she snapped.
They're for the funeral!"
.
.
