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It’s a goddamned shame.

A single drip of pink nail polish wham-bam in the middle of your perfectly manicured nails, painted in a whitish-topcoat.

Because what happens now has everything to do with smearing.

Get the acetone. Get the q-tips. Get the cotton balls. Get what you can.

It won’t matter.

Perfection won’t be perfection any longer.

Vanity will win out, of course, but.

Maybe it’s just as well to leave the pink to fade and blanch.

Maybe it’s just as well to leave it be, let it bond in torturous rapture, until you no longer rebel against the idea.

Pink is all in your head, anyway.