Hoofmaker

Betsy was walking into the supply room to put postage on a letter when she saw William filing down one of his nails. He then got out a band aid box from the cabinet. She didn’t ask, but he told her he had a hangnail.

Bespeckled William snorted out a laugh and said, “I feel so feminine.”

Betsy turned back to William and said, “I usually just rip mine off.”

She’s about done at the postage machine, when William grabs her hand to inspect her fingers. She looks too.

“You have very unfeminine hands,” he says. Another one of his chortled laughs. He’s known for these laughs and it annoys some of the other office mates.

Betsy pulls her hand away. “Yes, I know. Tom boy hands.”

She’s still trying to get back to her desk when William proceeds to flap his lips. He’s know for this too. William is the sort of guy that has something to say about just about anything. Freely opinionated. And occasionally when Betsy needs a random piece of trivia, she goes to William if he’s nearby.

He says, “Ya know, they sell this stuff at the horse and feed called Hoofmakers.”

“Hoof What?”

“Hoofmakers. No really, it’s straight from my mom. All the girls there at the feed store use it. It has a bunch of vitamins and other stuff in it. It smoothes your nails and puts a protective barrier around them and helps with cracked skin. You should check it out.”

Betsy listens. On one hand in the back of her head she laughs because this is just William; and on the other hand, she’s thinking, maybe she should check it out. She’s thinking it’s  moments like these that give her day a little lift because she appreciates being able to find the comedy in what can be a humdrum office vibe. So she’ll take it.

She’s determined to get out of the supply room and back to her desk. As she edges away, she says, “Hoofmakers, huh?”

“Yeah. Check it out.”

Betsy leaves William with his nail file and band aid and says, “Maybe I will. Thanks.”