On Monday, I hurt my finger. That was the beginning of the end.
My nail was black, my finger swollen, and so were we. It hurt like hell, and putting some ice on it could ease the pain. I should have looked for a doctor, for me and for us. I kept on going, even though the pain was always by my side. We were living with it. On another Monday, my nail finally gave in and fell, leaving me behind. Then, you also had to leave, and the shell between us was exposed. We had to face it. It was ugly, dirty, but it could be cleaned, or so I thought. It took months of dealing with the hole, the itchiness of it—it seemed like it could heal after all. We could be happy again, we could feel anew. My nail was growing, kind of rough and ugly, but it was growing, and so were we. Now, on this Saturday, my nail is healthy and 100%, but I finally lost you for good. We were growing, but apart.
My body feels new, but deep down, I still feel the aching of that black nail lingering.
Farewell.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Desalinhos e Tormentos
Short StoryDesalinhos e Tormentos traz uma coletânea de contos que podem identificar a maioria dos leitores: jovens perdidos na vida e que sentem que tudo está errado, inclusive com eles próprios. A humanidade é louca, repleta de contradições, e a nova geração...
