They talked about many things. Life, death, meaning. The small and the large things about existence on Earth. Love and pain. The nature of responsibility. The semantics of love. To be or not to be.
Eventually he conceded the point.
"I bet you are a great comfort to terminal patients," he said, picking up his gun from where he had dropped it to talk.
"I have helped a few," she said, "but they pay me more for discussing with the healthy."
The man smiled in understanding, put the gun against his temple, and shot.
.finis.
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