His left leg ached. Simon was getting too old for this. Long airport lines, cramped seats, airport security. He wished he had driven, despite the hours on the road. At least he could have pulled into motels along the way. Too late now, he was here, walking through the airport mall. On a whim, he went into a Burger Palace. He craved something that would add a few layers of fat around his arteries, something that screamed slow suicide. ‘Assisted Dying’, he corrected himself, though he somehow doubted that hamburgers would ever take the place of doctors…. ‘a hamburger a day keeps the doctor away’ did not have quite the same … je ne sais quoi….