Choice of Where I Were To Die


It was a lovely day, and I decided to sit on a park bench to enjoy the warmth and flowers. Two elderly men were sitting nearby. “You know, if I had a choice of where I were to die.” I overeheard one man say, “I’d choose my garden in the summer or my greenhouse in the winter.”

“If I knew where I was going to die,” growled his companion, “I just wouldn’t go there.”

-Kitty Cochrane

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