Pink

I got a manicure from a special lady last night.

Tiny fingers clutching the bottle, brows furrowed, completely intent on getting as much polish as possible out of the bottle and on to each nail. Stay in the lines, stay in the lines, the human lines of skin and nail and finger. White overalls, so close, don’t tip, don’t tip, death grip on the bottle, “Let’s save some for next time, maybe, maybe, don’t you think? Maybe daddy will want his toenails done.” Successful. Moving on to crayons. Crayons are excellent.

Crayons can’t spill.