“He’s a good kid,” said Grandpa, as we watched Kit circle the common and disappear down Oak Street. “He checks on me every now and then. His brother, however,” Grandpa made a face, “keeps trying to plan my funeral.” “That’s his job, I hear. He says it gives people peace of mind.” Grandpa smirked. “You know what would give me peace of mind?” “What?” “Not thinking about my funeral every time that kid pulls into the driveway.”
