Ink

“...who cares, I'm a tree frog!”

         "I know it’s a lame joke, but it got me through the funeral.” Miranda grinned and took a sip of juice. “That’s where this little guy on my wrist came from." She said pointing at the neon green and orange amphibian crawling up her vein with round toes outstretched. She looked up and stowing away her indignant grin. “Please don’t be mad.”

         Linda’s demeanor hadn’t changed throughout her little girl’s anecdote. Her face was solidly stuck between a disappointed frown and an upset scowl. She sighed, seemingly immune to the heartwarming tale.
Things were rough between the two since her father died. He was like the oil that kept those two gears from grinding together. Miranda blinked, wincing in anticipation of the epic riot act she was prepared to receive. She’d practiced her little speech and psyched herself up for over a week. She was proud of her ink and was ready to accept the consequences for it.

         Linda’s stony features softened. Her half frown, half scowl approached a smile. It didn’t get quite there, but it wasn’t the hellfire and brimstone Miranda was expecting. Linda unfurled her crossed arms reaching across the couch and taking her daughter’s hands in her own. “You know who told your uncle that joke over thirty years ago?”



(Word Count: 220)