Martin Collins didn’t expect to die. He was seventy-five. He was healthy and active. He still played golf once a week. He was on his knees weeding the flower bed in the back of his house with his wife of 50 years, Holly. The sun was shining. It was a warm spring day with the promise of summer in the air. He was thinking life was good. He and Holly had been content in their retirement. They still loved each other more then ever after 50 years which not many couples can claim. So the sudden sharp pain in the middle of his back came as surprise.
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