the polish my friend painted onto my nails hasn’t completely chipped off yet
when i look at it, i remember my hand in his, his gentle and kind touch, his pretty eyes and soft smile
i remember how he wanted to paint someone’s nails but no one offered
even though i hate the way the polish feels on my nails and always pick it off anyway, i let him paint them
and he held my hand gently the whole time and was focused so intently i thought those pretty eyes would bore a hole through my skin
even if they had, i wouldn’t have minded
it was worth the trouble to make him happy.