A Wifes Phone - Bloody Ink

Together they took the phone to a repair shop. The technician, a kindly older man with spectacles perched on his nose, examined the device, smiled, and said, “I’ve seen worse. It’s not about the ink; it’s about the love you still have for each other that keeps you bringing it back.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the phone, then slid away. “I’m busy, Mara. I’ll get to it later.” He muttered, his gaze never leaving the numbers. bloody ink a wifes phone

Mara swallowed hard, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you. I felt invisible.” Together they took the phone to a repair shop

Alex took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mara. I’ve been distant. I didn’t realize… I thought you were okay with me working late.” “I’m busy, Mara

She unscrewed the cap, watched the ink pool into a dark puddle. In the dim light, the ink looked almost like blood—thick, glossy, unforgiving.