Kristin stormed out the studio, both her hands and face smeared with paint. “This isn’t funny, Simon! What have you done with it?”
Simon folded his paper. “Done with what?”
“You know exactly what. My paint tray. What else would I be talking about?”
“I thought you were done, so I put it in the kitchen ready for washing.”
“Do I look done? You know I always leave the outlining until last, so how come you didn’t notice the black was still there?”
“Sorry.” He smiled to himself. Revenge is a dish best served when it causes the most frustration.
I wrote this in response to this week’s Friday fictioneers.