Fingernails

I met a woman yesterday.  The woman was the friend of a friend.  We met quite by chance on a sidewalk in Helena.  The woman was holding a cup of coffee when I met her.  I found myself immediately transfixed by her hand—soon both hands.  Each of this woman’s fingernails was painted a loudly different color.

I found the woman’s fingernails beautiful in a way.  I told her exactly that.

After we parted ways, the thought struck me that I did not even bother to notice if she was wearing a wedding ring.  In fact, I have never in my entire life bothered to look for wedding rings, though I regularly hear men talking about doing such.

Apparently, some form of miswiring inside me has left cold the circuits that trigger normal men to watch football and look for wedding rings on women they meet.

--Mitchell Hegman