JUST THE TWO OF THEM IN THEIR HAPPY BUBBLE
Thirteenth Dragonfly
With both arms draped over her eyes — one leg crooked, the other stretched out — Maudiere Wenndt passively endured the marker tip tickling over her ribs.
Her attention bounced between an uncomfortable twinge in her neck, the cool swish of the ceiling fan, the thin cracks of light clawing across her fabricated darkness, and the comfortable conversation she was having with the toddler marking her up like a coloring book.
“Why this?”
“Hmm?” She lifted her arms to squint over at Ben, but her eyes found only his outstretched hands waiting.
“Moooom! You can’t look yet!” She dropped her head back against the floor and tightened her arms over her eyes as instructed as he clarified his question for her. “I meant your dragonfly. I thought you liked cats.”
It took moments to sift through all the questions he’d asked about her tattoo previously, and sure enough, she realized he’d never asked about her choice in image. How bad it hurt, why she’d decided to get it, the process behind it, if she was ever going to get it colored in, why on her ribs, if it was magical, if he could get one, how old he had to be before he could, what she thought he should get… just about every other…
