Prompt: Fingernail
Chop, chop, chop. The fingernails get chopped. Nice and clean.
I used to bite them. I used to bite them bad. So now I cut them every few days.
My mind is going right back to 1990. Italy, football and Pavarotti. It was The World Cup.
No, I wasn't there. I watched it on the TV, like most fans around the world. I was watching it from my home country of England.
We had a gem. Paul Gascgoine. We called him Gazza. He was perceived as a clown. But the boy could play. He was the best player of the tournament.
So close, England kept winning. A last minute goal against Belgium. A lucky win against Cameroon. The semi final was reached.
The whole country chewed their fingernails. Nothing could stop them. Even people that do not like football become gripped
But then the sadness. Gazza gets an unlucky yellow card. It means that he wouldn't be allowed to play if England get to the final.
Then more heartache, England played brilliantly, well enough to win. But they lose a penalty shoot out to Germany.
That was it. Dreams shattered. Thoughts of what might have been. It lives on in the minds of the ones old enough to remember.
We remember the tears of the clown. The tears of Gazza.
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Task:
@mariannewest/day-129-5-minute-freewrite-sunday-prompt-fingernail
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