I had choices, too. I often made the wrong ones.

[She likes the smell of his cigarette, she decides, mixed with the whiskey.]

I'd like to think... In the end, I made the right one. Even though it lead me here. [She takes another long drink, closing her eyes as the whiskey burns down her throat. When it passes, she opens her eyes again, closer to him.]

Do you wish to know how I died?