Death and Dying, Dying and Death

On the way home from my last short story, there was a young man on the train wearing clothes that made him look like the most polished clean young man in the world. He was sitting next to me. 

If I find them reading on the bus, I always sneak a look at what it is they are reading. 

In this particular sneak, I was able to make out the title of the chapter that this polished clean young man was reading. The chapter was ‘Death and dying’.  I couldn’t make out any of the chapter’s other words. 

I didn’t even see what the title of the book itself was. ‘Death and dying’ only. 

‘Death and dying’ was all I really needed to write this story.