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An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of

impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite chocolate

chip cookies wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.

Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with

even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled

downstairs. With laboured breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing

into the kitchen.

Were it 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

literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted wife of

sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table,

landing on his knees in a rumpled posture.

His aged and withered hand trembled towards a cookie at the edge of the

table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a spatula.

"<deleted> off" she said, "they're for the funeral."

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