Back of a person's neck showing a fine line black tattoo of a horizontal bar balanced on a small upright triangle, in a fine line geometric style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Balance line and triangle on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the back of a person's neck, with hair pulled up and a black top visible at the bottom of the frame. A thin, single-line horizontal bar sits above a small outlined triangle centred beneath it, forming a simple balance-like shape. The ink is solid black with no shading, set against pale skin and a red background.

Fine line Geometric Neck Triangle Line Scale

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hall at Stanhope Road smelled of the same floor polish, though someone had strung gold foil chains above the stage and our name badges had the wrong surnames on them. I found Maureen Pask by the squash table. She still had the ruler. It was a wooden metre rule she'd nicked from Mr Feeney's physics bench in 1994, and she carried it in her handbag like a wand.

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"Still wonky?" she said. She laid it across a folded sheet of card cut into a triangle, then nudged a biro along the rule until it tipped. Feeney used to make us do this every Thursday. Put the weight where the lever is light, he'd say, and it'll come level. Nobody got it right first time except Maureen, who always knew which side to lean on before she looked.

We had been the two who sat at the back, passing notes folded into triangles, each of us certain the other was the heavier one, the one who would take the blame if it went wrong. When Feeney caught us, she took the whole thing on her own. I let her. I have turned that over for thirty years, the way you keep turning a stone in your pocket.

She slid the biro until the rule sat dead level on the card. "There," she said. "Your turn to hold it." I put my finger on the far end. The card creaked, and neither of us moved for a while, the way you don't move when something finally holds.