I don’t know about you, but as my work day winds down, I generally finish up my projects and find myself with a few minutes to spare. I hate starting something in the last few minutes of my work day, because then I’ll just sit there and think about it all night at home, but fifteen minutes is a lot of time to sit here trying to look busy.
I’m trying to train myself to fill in these little blips of free time at work with writing, and to that end, I’m going to try doing a series of story bits written when I have a few spare moments. They may form a cohesive story, or I may get several stories going at once and bounce back and forth. I’ll be sure to mark each piece clearly, so you don’t have to figure out who the heck I’m talking about when I post.
With that out of the way, here’s the very first part of a story I know absolutely nothing about at this point: Inkling
(An ongoing flash fiction WIP)
Grayson didn’t have a thing for tattoos, no matter what Jordan said. Just because his last three furtive hookups had involved people who liked to carry art on their skin, that didn’t make it a Thing.
Then again, as Thing’s went, it wasn’t any worse than liking redheads, or breasts large enough to have their own gravitational pull. He could appreciate both, but neither of them were as immediately inspiring as the flash of ink on someone else’s skin.
Fine, fine, it was totally a Thing. He had a Thing.
He also had a customer, and he was pretty certain that he’d been staring at him for a little too long, if the vaguely annoyed expression was any indication.
“Uh, hi. I mean, welcome to Rosenguild Fine Art Supplies. Can I help you with anything?”