Her fingernails

While he was cleaning up his desk, he came across a sliver of her fingernail. It had been flung across the desk by the force of clamping clippers. She used to absentmindedly groom herself—trim her fingernails and toenails and pick her nose and pimples-while sitting in front of the computer. It was cute. But today, the site of the yellowed fingernail made his stomach lurch. He ran to the bathroom and vomited into the sink. Was it or wasn’t it a myth that one’s fingernails keep growing after death?