We were comparing tattoos, grandad and me. His was a dot in the palm of his hand, charcoal grey.
“Two lessons,” he said. “One: never catch a falling pencil, especially when it’s just been sharpened.”
He paused, eyes distant.
“And number two?”
A grimace. “Not all mistakes can be erased.’”
Thomas Malloch began writing in retirement. Short stories and Flash fiction mostly. Sometimes, he even gets published.
