"What of this parchment?"
" Let it dry.
We must focus our attention on the gentleman who claims to be deceased. Oh my.
And you are?"
"Emmit Wright. "
"Well, Mr. Wright you know it's dreadfully late. Sir, are you aware of where you are?"
"Yes of course. You would wonder how a man who's fit enough to call on you could claim that he has died."
"I'm afraid that you may need a hospital, not a police office. Sit tight."
"Hold on. I shall explain.
For years I've lived just down the way with my wife in a cottage on Gervais, but one year ago, she was diagnosed with a terminal case of PK. Her pain progressively grew worse. She begged me to relieve her of this burden. At last we decided on a toast, to the lives and loves that we've known. But what I couldn't bare to let her know, is that for myself, I had planned the same dose."