“I’m sorry,” Audrey said to the finger in the drain, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Come out?” She’d noticed the finger, or more precisely the hand to which it was attached, about three months prior. She had been feeling particularly morose and there it was—a hand in the drain. She came to appreciate its regularity. It had become a creepy comfort of sorts but had backed down the drain last week after she’d told Clarence, her current ex-boyfriend; he’d screamed and moved out after hearing about the hand in the sink. She missed him: the hand, not Clarence.
The idea came to me this morning and while I’d planned on a longer tale of Audrey and the hand I thought this fit the 100-word Drabble requirement nicely. Visit Story A Day May and add yours here; we’re just getting started.