>
> >> > An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, 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. Leaning 
>against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom,and with even greater 
>effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping
the railing withboth hands.  With labored 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: there, spread out on napkins on the kitchen  table were literally hundreds of 
>his favorite chocolate chip cookies.  Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of 
>heroic love from his  devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
> >> > Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on 
>his knees in a rumpled posture.
> >> >  His parched lips parted;  the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his 
>mouth, seemingly  ringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand, shaking, made 
>its  way to a cookie at the edge of the table when his wife  suddenly smacked him  
>with a spatula.  "Stay out of those" she said,  "they're for the funeral."
>
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