Black lettering tattoo on the inner forearm reading a bachelorette party quote, with a small red lips motif, in a lettering style.

Bachelorette quote with red lips on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a hand and inner forearm with a black text tattoo in a casual printed-style script, reading a playful bachelorette party message with a small red lips graphic between lines. The letters are crisp and evenly weighted, with a few slightly varied strokes in the cursive words. The ink is mainly black with one pink-red accent, set against pale skin and a grey paved background with the hand's painted nails visible above.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The minibus pulled out of the Dry Creek Grill at ten past eleven with its headlights on and one of its passengers still missing. Wren Halloran found the evidence on the tip saucer: a strip of paper printed with a pair of pink lips and a line in jaunty type, the kind of thing a group of women stick to everything they own. I belong to the bachelorette party. If found, please buy me a drink.

Keep reading

The maid of honour, a woman called Corinne who had come in for a lemonade and a bathroom, had apparently wandered out to the shoulder of the highway to look at the stars and not come back. Wren drove the diner's dented pickup out along the white line with a jug of water rolling on the passenger seat and the radio stuck on a country station that kept fading into static. Heat came up off the tarmac in sheets. By the second mile she had decided she would be furious. By the third she had decided she would only be a little furious.

Corinne was sitting on the guardrail with one sandal in her lap, sand in her hair, and a look of great contentment. She held up the paper strip she had evidently peeled from her cup, the lips smeared a bit at one corner. "Are you the one who found me?" she asked.

"I'm the one who's supposed to buy you a drink," Wren said, and handed her the jug. Corinne tipped it back, laughed, and said the next round was on her, since she'd been lost in the desert and that was technically a bachelorette tradition. Wren decided not to argue. She took the paper strip back and tucked it into her apron pocket, where she would find it again in June, soft from the wash, and still reading the same thing.

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