“I want to die doing this,” she said, staring straight ahead at the tents coming down. “Me too,” Linda said. “I want to be found in a pool of my own beer.” Agatha was smiling. “I’ve never thought of it before,” she said. “But me, too.” “Definitely a stout, though,” Linda said. “Guess I’ll have to make some more.” Betsy laughed. “I’d like to drown in a triple IPA.” “I hate to say it,” Agatha said. “But I want to die in a pool of lager.”
