The Tattoo That Started the End

In our batch reunion dinner, someone asked everyone to share the craziest thing they’d ever done.

When it was my wife’s turn, the poison she couldn’t quit barged in with his crew and flipped the entire table.

Then he stepped right onto her thigh and grinned at me. “Your wife’s little beauty mark in her pretty little peach? I put that there.”

The blood drained from my face.

Turned out that the mark she’d never let me touch in three years of marriage, even in our closest moments, wasn’t natural.