She was painting her nails red. Cherry red. Lipstick red. The color of red you see the hosts of cooking shows sporting. That always baffled her. How did they manage to do all that cooking and cleaning without ruining their nail polish? First hand finished. Now the hard part. Switching the nail polish brush to her left hand, she tried for an even swipe. Of course, it hit the edges of her skin. Whatever, just keep going. She had a million things to do but when she headed to the kitchen, instead of grabbing a dish towel, she detoured to the bathroom and grabbed this bottle of red red polish. There. Done. Replacing the cap carefully, she stretches out her fingers to admire the glossy color. Glancing at the clock, she knows she has a sink full of dishes to clean, laundry to start, a floor to sweep. But her nails are wet. She can't do that right now. She can, awkwardly, grab her phone and carefully swipe it awake. Damn it. Smudged one. It didn't really matter. It would all chip off in a day or two. So it didn't really bother her that much. Instead, she curled up on the sofa, next to the cherry red bottle of nail polished, and idly waved her hands one at a time while scrolling. Waiting for her fingernails to dry.
