“Which one do you want?”
I stare at the poster, images blurring. Brock’s voice grates like lemon zest on a spinach quiche dinner. It just feels wrong.
“Shut up!” So ornery when he’s drunk. If only we hadn’t had those extra Manhattans at the Lucky Lounge Casino next door.
I choose the elegant red dragon tattoo. The pain barely registers, and we stumble to our hotel.
Next morning, I head for the bathroom. A classic hangover, until I pass out and wake up in the hospital.
The doctor glances at my fresh, oozing tattoo. “Congratulations, Lydia. You’re due in December.”
Copyright © 2015 by Emily Clayton
Originally appeared on Flash!Friday’s Warmup Wednesday: