Shayari Bazar

But she was weak... weak somehow. It was as if she was sending out radio signals which only he could receive. You could point to certain things--how much she smoked (but he had almost cured her of that), the restless way her eyes moved, never quite meeting the eyes of whoever was talking to her, only touching them from time to time and then leaping nimbly away; her habit of lightly rubbing her elbows when she was nervous; the look of her fingernails, which were kept neat but brutally short. She picked up her glass of white whine, he saw her nails, and thought: SHE KEEPS THEM SHORT LIKE THAT BECAUSE SHE BITES THEM.