Black ink line drawing of a flower with broad pointed petals and a dotted centre, sketched on white paper in a spiral notebook.

Black ink line drawing of a flower

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A single flower is drawn in bold black outline with broad, pointed petals arranged in two overlapping rings. The centre has a rounded disc with dotted and stippled texture, surrounded by a ring of small pointed bracts. The petals are left unshaded and the drawing is shown flat on white paper, with a dim background visible at the top edge.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last train to Harrowgate had gone without her, and Marguerite stood under the iron canopy of platform four with a paper cup of tea going cold in her hands. Above her, the departure board had given up on the Leeds service and was flicking to a list of cancellations. Nobody else was waiting. A porter in a orange hi-vis was sweeping crisp packets towards a drain, and every few seconds he glanced up at her as if she might be a problem he would have to report.

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She had come to meet Tobias off the night sleeper from Inverness, a man she had not seen in eleven years, since the summer his father's greenhouse burned down and they had both pretended it was an accident of weather. His letter had said only: platform four, Tuesday, I'll be the one with the wet umbrella. She had almost laughed at that, folding the page into quarters in her coat pocket, because Tobias had never owned an umbrella in his life.

The train pulled in at twenty past six, sighing steam over the rails. Doors opened along the carriages. A woman with a poodle got off, then two students, then a man in a tweed cap who carried nothing at all. Marguerite watched every window. When the last door shut and the guard raised his flag, she found she was holding the cup so tightly that the lid had cracked.

Then a figure came unhurriedly down the steps at the far end, a hand raised, a folded black umbrella tucked under one arm like a rolled-up map. He was dry as a biscuit. She laughed out loud, and the porter looked up again, and this time she did not mind being noticed.

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