January 11, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about wet ink. It can be artistic, writerly or something completely off-the-wall. Go where the prompt leads.
“The ink’s running. Is it supposed to do that?” My husband shows me his forearm, the new tattoo leaking color.
How would I know? His freshly engraved arm evokes uncertainty in me. Who is he now?
“Have you googled?” I don’t wait for his reply. I jab words into my browser, thrust my phone at him, and bite my lip. Passive-aggressive much?
“This has nothing to do with you.”
He sighs. “It’s an expression of creativity. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re an accountant.”
“And bass player.”
Comprehension drizzles coldly over me: Saturday night’s groupie hot for ink.
end (99 words)
Sascha Darlington 1/12/2018