He’s a vision, an absolute beauty. His hands are soft and his nails perfectly trimmed. His fingers are long and bony, yet have a very graceful elega...ce to them. He wears an old ring belonging to an old relative on his right index. More soft, perfect, unbroken skin. Compared to his, my hands are stubby and dirty, now that I realise. The skin around each and every one of my fingernails is torn. Some are even on the verge of bleeding. It’s a nervous habit of mine. If I agree to this, it’ll all be. She leaned forward in her seat and squinted through her sunglasses. The figure was still tiny but she was pretty certain it was a man. He was walking on the other side of the road, towards her. “Not going my way, then,” she guessed. The man crossed to her side of the road. “Oh…’kay, then.” Of all of her dad’s rules of the road, she always knew which one was like the Pandora’s Box of commandments. There was no way she would ever think of breaking it. No way. Not a chance. Her foot eased up. More

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