Over the summer I slammed my finger in the door. It was one of those moments where you know it doesn't help to bash your wounded finger against the wall but you do it anyway. Several days later my fingernail fell off. I had always wondered how a fingernail looked without a nail but when it finally happened to me I wasn't so much fascinated as I was worried that I might have scurvy.

After consuming copious amounts of fruit I proceeded to wait. It was then that I noticed that there was a thin layer of fingernail still attached to my finger. This fingernail was so thin that it, in fact, looked like skin. I was happy to know that I was not completely without my beloved fingernail but I was still slightly disappointed to find out that I had not actually viewed that finger in its full naked glory.

Over time, my fingernail began to grow back at its original thickness. I was pleased until I noticed that it was no longer the pleasant pink of my other fingernails but more of a pinkish-red. I decided I would allow this fingernail to express its individuality so that it could serve as reminder of the physical superiority doors have over fingers. I proceeded with my day-to-day activities until I suddenly noticed that my fingernail was 4/5ths of the way back to normal. Then, without warning, disaster struck. The northern region of my fingernail rebelled, turning from that beautiful pinkish red colour to an off-white. I briefly thought of my confederate friend, Jake, but then I recalled that it was the southern region that had rebelled and not the northern one. I realized there was no parallel to draw from, and I despaired.

Lately, I've noticed the advance of the southern reddish-pinkish front against the off-white menace and I rejoice. Someday my fingernail will be restored to its former glory. Don't worry, I'll keep you posted.