Just as we were about to get the large box out of the door, it suddenly crashes down to the ground, followed by a shriek.
"What the fuck was that?" I ask my girlfriend, who's got her bottom lip stuck out and shaking her right hand vigorously.
"This stupid box made me break my acrylic!" She complains, making me and May roll our eyes.
"Ana, baby, we've got bigger things to worry about right now than your goddamn fingernail." I try to keep my cool.
We've spent almost the entire day moving boxes in the sweltering heat to Boston from Queens and since the car wasn't big enough to fit everything in, we've had to make two journeys there already.
It's safe to say all three of us were tired, hot and irritable.
"Well I'm sorry Peter, but I can't physically lift your fucking boxes properly if my hand isn't working." She mumbles.
I count to ten in my head, trying my best not to lash out at her when I know she hasn't done much to annoy me today. I mostly blame the tedious work I've been having to do all day for my shitty attitude.
Immediately, I brush off my frustration when I see tears in her eyes and I walk over to her. "Let me see."
I notice May giving me a proud look when I don't have a negative reaction, and my heart swells when I see that I've finally done something to make her genuinely happy for the first time in ages.
"Shit." I mutter, seeing that the injury really is pretty bad.
There's a large cut in the middle of the nail, one half of it practically hanging by a thread with blood slowly oozing out. Anastasia reels away from me when I touch it, keeping her hand tucked underneath her arm.
"Baby, you gotta let me at least put a band aid on it or something." I say.
She eventually agrees, allowing me to wrap a band aid around her finger and Anastasia fiddles with the wobbly acrylic.
