The Way to Go
“I went to visit a friend of mine in a hospice. It was disgusting. Old people drooling on themselves. Don’t you ever put me in a place like that,” said my Grandmother, sitting next to me on the couch. She smelled like vodka and sweat.
“Yeah, me neither. I’m wandering off into the desert when my time comes,” I replied.
My Grandmother took another sip. “I’m wandering into traffic”.
