Graveyard Eulogy

Mick Galindo sat in the porch swing, clipping his toenails. As porches went, his (okay, Mama’s) was rather narrow, with sagging steps and weathered posts and rafters that creaked beneath his weight. That didn’t much worry him, though. His mother, who topped the scales at close to three hundred, had rocked in this swing without incident for years. Mick doubted his hundred sixty-eight pounds would bring it crashing down.