Irony

"I refuse," she said with quiet indignation. "Even if I have only choice of that or dying, I would continue to refuse."

I nodded with understanding, recognizing that some bit of information had been presented to her in the past that changed her life forever.

"So you don't drink anything but bottled water? Even in your own home you don't draw from the tap?" I asked, pretending to be unclear on her meaning.

"Not for drinking. Ugh! Poison! The stuff the city sends through the pipes is nasty. It will give you any number of noxious bugs immediately, and if you manage to avoid that, the chemical treatments in it will give you cancer."

Then she took a long angry pull from her cigarette, a last draw down to the filter.

Again I nodded with understanding.