Semi-Daily Scribbles

Lila, picking out the broccoli in her takeaway yakisoba, thought about how lucky she was. She had supportive friends, indulgent parents (Lila was a surprise, a miracle, a late-in-life baby), debts paid, and big dreams of opening a tattoo parlor. She didn't care much for tattoos, hadn't a drop of ink on her own skin, but she knew people liked them. Lila was keenly aware people paid a lot of money for tattoos and, once the work started, it was but a brief passage of time between the tiny heart on the ankle and the creative interpretation of "Alice in Wonderland" all up and down the arms. She stabbed at a chicken chunk with her chopstick and calculated the number of days remaining before John got out. The shop had to be ready by then,

before then, really. Lila nibbled at the pierced piece of meat, and felt a shiver as she pictured a long line of ready flesh waiting outside the shop on Opening Day.

I see it too.

Lila had remained connected to John all this time, so it never felt like they were truly apart. All the bars and concrete did make getting messages through difficult, but a bit of exertion never hurt anyone. Lila was banking on her stick-to-itiveness, and John's skills picked up while away, to change their fortunes for good.