Nail on the Head

Story Sent in by Darlene:

Mark seemed like a nice, clean-cut guy. We met online and spoke enough to meet in person. When we did, I couldn't help but notice that his nails were long and he was wearing shiny silver nail polish.

"Nice nails," I said, and I meant it. I was hoping he'd take it as a compliment.

Instead, he scowled at me and said, "Want to come to my house?"

I replied, "Let's do dinner, like we originally planned."

We spoke during dinner, but he spent a lot of time looking at his nails. At one point during a pause in conversation, he actually kissed each one. When he caught me staring, he said, "You love your nails, too. I feel it most when I read at the bedtime. They do not let you down. Like people."

While my nails have never let me down like some people have, they're also just nails. Since we were on the topic, I asked him, "Why do you paint them?"

He said, "I will never cut them or keep them unpainted. Mostly for a memory."

"What memory?" I asked.

"All the nails I've cut before," he said with a sad face.

Well then. I pretended to find him normal for the rest of the date, and when he hugged me goodnight, I pretended to not feel his nails lightly digging into my back. I haven't seen him since, but by this point, his nails are likely a quarter of a foot long, if not half.

*

Is marriage an abduction?