Sgt. Vincent Trent found his wife Melissa both laughing and crying, a pink gel pen in her hand.
“So you know how I am doing the paperwork for Velma's paintings to be in that young artist's virtual gallery that is going to be opening up in October,” she said. “So, I'm doing it by hand because scrolling makes me aggravated.”
“I understand,” Sgt. Trent said as he embraced her.
“So, my pen died, and that cutie pie Amanda Ludlow was over here visiting with Gracie and saw my distress and ran up and said, 'Use my pen – and here's some snugglecouragement so you feel better!'”
“That's so Amanda,” Sgt. Trent said.
“So then of course, Gracie said that an artist application is going to look better in hot pink because it shows creativity, so I had to sit down between them and fill the whole thing out to their satisfaction … and then they wanted to make it better, so...”
Mrs. Trent handed her husband the application, and he broke out laughing.
“They got the purple and the orange in here – this is a work of art!” he said.
“So obviously, I gotta start over,” Mrs. Trent said, “but as I was printing out the new one, the first pen at hand was Amanda's!”
“Ah ha,” Sgt. Trent said, and then reached into his pocket. “I'll relieve you of that duty. Use my pen.”
