If a man who turnip cries

Cry not when his father dies, ’tis a proof that he would rather have a turnip than a father.

Samuel Johnson

“So many do not get to choose,” Death said, “I take them away swiftly like a thief in the night, before they ever realize it is me. I will take you the same way as I took your dear friend, Augustus… Do you not recall him or have you forgotten him so easily?”

“How dare you speak his name!” I felt my anger rising.

“Ah,” exclaimed Death, “I see you remember him… Have you forgotten that day?”

“I do not want to speak of it!” I shouted at him. “Leave me alone! I have nothing more to say to you. Leave, leave!”

“You do not summon me away,” Death said. “I came here for you, and you, I will take when your heart ceases beating. I came for you as I came for Augustus. Do not fight me.”

“I do not want to hear any more!” I covered my ears.

“You fool,” Death said. “Augustus, didn’t beg for his life as you do now.”

I turned away from Death and cried.

“No, no,” was all I could repeat. “He was my friend.”

“Ah, yes, poor Augustus,” Death said quietly.

“Did he feel anything?” I weakly asked.

“His death was swift,” Death replied.