She Doesn't Bite her Fingernails Anymore

**1st place prose**

She doesn't bite her fingernails anymore

by Angela Peach

I stared at her hands as we talked. I observed the baby fat gone from ber suddenly slender fingers. Beautiful, silver rings perched elegantly, and she twisted them as we talked. Superficially. Of shopping, and boys, and movies, and old times, steering around the deep gap digging itself between us, away from the new lives we've both begun apart from the world we occupied once together. Her fingers strummed the table top in an irregular rhythm, punctuating a slight silent space, and I noticed the blood-red polish carefully applied. She glanced at her watch and smoothed her hair. Times up. We both smiled and stood to go. It was nice that we could lunch together! 'See you in another day or two." I watched as she left and realized she doesn't bite her fingernails anymore.