Miss Lacey

When I got out of the pool and toweled off, I noticed the tattoo on my bicep had shrunk.

I have many tattoos, mostly of faded pinup girls, but this one is different: a brown and

black heart branded with the name of my first dog, Miss Lacey. A beagle. We got her from

the local dairy farm; I named her after my kindergarten teacher, who had a tender

nature and soulful brown eyes.

I told myself it would grow back to its normal size over time, then warned my daughter

not to dive so close to the shallow end.

 


This story was shortlisted in the June monthly micro fiction competition.

About the author: Caleb Bouchard lives in Atlanta, Georgia. His writing has recently appeared in Dead Skunk Mag, MORIA, The Pointed Circle, and Rejection Letters