Black blackletter word Protect tattooed on a forearm, with two people's hands clasped inside a car.

Blackletter Protect forearm tattoo in a car

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two people hold hands in the front seat of a car, with a steering wheel, dashboard and drink can visible. The forearm on the left carries a solid black blackletter tattoo reading Protect, with part of another dark design above it. The tattoo is in black ink, and the scene is muted with no colour ink.

Lettering Forearm Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift at Harrow Point had been dead since Easter, so every evening Mrs Adebayo and I took the stairs together, her shopping bags knocking against my knees on each landing. I was the caretaker then. I had keys to everything and nobody asked me anything kind. Ferris from the council came round with a clipboard and said the word budget the way other men say the name of a team they hate.

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The word was on the wall of the bin store on level three, painted in black gloss by someone with a steady hand. PROTECT, in those spiky old letters, as if they'd been cut from a church door. Mrs Adebayo blamed the Okafor boys. Ferris blamed a crew from across the ring road. I said nothing, because I had seen Dan Riley standing by that wall at dusk with a tin of paint balanced on his car bonnet, and I had seen him scrub his hands at the outside tap afterwards for a long time.

Ferris sent me down with a roller and a tin of magnolia that Thursday. I got as far as the first wide stroke before a voice behind me said, "Leave it, Mr Hale." Dan was in the doorway, not angry, just tired, holding a torch the way you hold something you might need to drop. He said the lift was getting fixed by Monday, that Ferris had put it in writing to the residents' association, and that the word was the only thing that had made anyone look up from their phones in months.

I put the roller down. Upstairs, Mrs Adebayo's door was ajar, the hall light on, a bag of oranges waiting on the mat for someone to carry it in. I left the wall as it was. On Monday the lift doors opened with a sigh, and the first thing I saw was a fresh strip of black gloss along the bottom of the wall, with the word still standing above it.