I can't help but keep looking at my ring finger. The more I look at it, the more I hate how it looks. I can't help but compare it with the one on my right hand. The feeling is worse. Not that I have the most beautiful fingers in the world. Nor am I saying that it is as important to me as to girls. But it's a blemish.

It looks ugly. It's leaning to the left, as though having an affection towards the little finger-Apparently the doctor didn't like it and asked me to strap it with the middle finger till it mends.It wouldn't bend;stubborn like me. It's ballooned-in-the-middle shape is funny, though, at times. From a particular angle, it looks like a boomerang; a somewhat straighter boomerang. Only that I can't detach it from my body and use for a weapon.

The doctor has fooled me; he said it would become normal. I mutter. May be I can spend few thousand bucks more to set it alright. May be I can go for a surgery! But the idea of not being able to use one of my hands for some more time is a nightmare.