“I dare you.”
Melanie gave Boz a once-over. He looked like trouble personified—golden-eyed, loose-limbed, wearing that sly smile he’d moved to town with in eighth grade.
“Peer pressure hasn’t worked on me since Girl Guides,” she said.
“Sure, but this is better. This is grown-up mischief.” Boz spread his arms, all showman flair. “When was the last time you did anything just because it made no sense?”
She opened her mouth to reply, then paused.
“Exactly. You don’t even remember.” Boz leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. “Remember the Mel who sambaed under a fat moon? Who dove off Old Man McQuarrie’s dock? Who snuck into the haunted funhouse down Crescent Hollow way?”
She hated how tempting that version of herself sounded. Cool, carefree Mel—more a rumor from a past life than anyone she recognized now. “You make bad decisions sound like a spa retreat.”
“Why, thank you,” Boz said, eyes sparkling. “You, my friend, need some deeply unserious wellness.”
Melanie huffed a laugh despite herself as he tugged her along the cobblestone sidewalk. “I have work in the morning, you know. Deadlines. A standing meeting at nine.”
“You also have two calendars, a budget spreadsheet that color-codes joy into extinction, and an overachieving filing cabinet of unfinished to-do lists.”
“It’s called being responsible.”
“It’s called being overdue for a detour.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. Somewhere between her last promotion and her therapist recommending magnesium, fun had faded to memory. The kind of memory that felt suspiciously fictional.
They turned down a crooked side street. The tattoo shop was nestled between a shuttered bakery and a pawn shop that never seemed to be open, but never went out of business either. The sign above the door was hand-painted in gold script: INKLING. It shimmered against the deep green facade, a secret dare all its own.
The windows were fogged from the inside. One pane was cracked into a starburst. A handwritten note was taped to the glass: Walk-ins only. Truth takes time.
Melanie hesitated. Something about the place made you pause—not with fear, exactly, but the faint sense you were being watched by your own reflection.
Boz was already bouncing on his toes. For as long as she’d known him, he’d hummed jaunty little tunes under his breath, like his body couldn’t quite contain all the nonsense. As always, the tune slowly twisted into words:
A dare’s a dare, you can’t back down,
Not in this sleepy, no-fun town.
A mark so small, a line, a clue—
Ink like this sees straight through you.A bee, a star, a crescent moon,
A dancing frog with a tiny spoon—
It’s not forever, just your fate,
Come on, Mel, it’s not too late!
Melanie snorted. “Is that your original material?”
He winked. “The shop deserves a theme song.”
Despite herself, she smiled. Something in her chest unknotted.
“All right,” Melanie said. “Let’s go in. But if I end up with tetanus and a spoon-wielding frog on my bicep, I’m sending you the medical—and therapy—bill.”
Boz, the scheming genius, had chosen his dare well. He knew in another lifetime she’d wanted a tattoo. She’d just never found one that felt…safe.
But maybe safe wasn’t the point.
Melanie woke with the distinct sensation that something was…watching her.
Not someone. Something.
The morning light crept across her sheets as she sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her forearm itched beneath the gauze. She shuffled to the bathroom mirror and peeled the wrap off to check out the tidy little bumblebee she’d chosen last night.
Except there was no bee. What she saw instead was a smiling sun, its tongue sticking out, eyes crossed like a bored emoji.
Beneath it, in curly lettering: You take yourself too seriously.
She squinted. Tilted her arm. Laughed once, sharply.
“Okay, Boz,” she muttered. “Nice one.”
She stared at it. Then squinted. Dragged her thumb across it. Blinked again.
He must’ve switched the design when she was distracted. Whispered something to the tattoo artist while she was filling out the waiver. Classic Boz move.
But…no. She’d watched the tattoo being done. Hadn’t she?
The memory wobbled. Needles buzzing, her skin warm and raw, the artist’s hands steady. But the actual image forming on her arm? She couldn’t quite picture it now.
Melanie frowned. She couldn’t picture the artist’s face either. Just a blur. A presence. A voice that must’ve spoken—or not.
Her stomach did an uneasy turn. She looked back at the sun. It beamed up at her like it knew something she didn’t. Carefully, she covered the tattoo back up.
The next morning, the tattoo had changed again. The sun was gone.
Now, there was a cartoon duck wearing sunglasses and riding a skateboard. It made her think of a sticker sheet in a ’90s lunchbox. Below it: Remember when you were fun?
Melanie choked on her toothpaste. The ink looked healed. Fresh. Impossible.
She didn’t text Boz. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
On the third day, the duck was replaced by a dancing ghost wearing a party hat. Underneath: You are not too old to dance on tables.
She stared at it. Then Melanie went to her closet and pulled out the sequined top she hadn’t worn since university.
She wore it to get coffee. Someone complimented it. Her bemused grin lasted for hours.
Each morning, something new.
Eat the cake. (Paired with a slice of lemon cake mid-leap, legs and arms flailing in delight.)
You deserve a nap. (A sleeping sloth hugging a pillow.)
Flirt back, Mel. (A wink from a purple flamingo.)
She started sleeping with her arm uncovered. Just to see what would show up.
One morning, the tattoo simply read: Who was right?
Melanie rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. But she was laughing before she even picked up the phone.
Boz answered with his usual chirp, “Chaos goblin, at your service!”
She said, “You win.”
He whooped so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“Of course I do!” he shouted. “What was it today? A cow in a tutu? A squirrel doing taxes?”
“Worse,” she said. “The truth.”
Melanie could feel him grinning through the line.
“About time,” Boz said.
Halfway through, I thought it was about to take a dark turn. Pleasantly surprised it didn’t :) I really enjoyed this one 🖤
Omg, I LOVE these stories Sheridan. This one is my favorite so far! And whenever I finish one, I just think: ok, more please!