Close-up of a thin black script tattoo reading blessed with a looping flourish on the ribs, worn beneath a white lace bandeau.

Blessed script on the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up of a torso wearing a white lace bandeau, showing a single word, blessed, in thin black cursive script. The linework is fine and even, with a looping flourish rising above the letter b and the ink sitting on the side of the ribcage. The image is a simple, slightly warm-toned photo with the tattoo as the clear focus.

Lettering Fine line Ribs Word Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell, the 17.42 came in forty minutes late again, so I stood on the down platform with the lamp unlit and counted carriages the way Father taught me. Seven. Four with lights. Nobody got off at Thornbury except a man with a cello, who asked whether the Bristol train still stopped here on Sundays. I told him it did, though it doesn't, and he looked so pleased that I felt bad about it all the way back to the signal box.

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Your letter found me there, tucked under the tea caddy where Mr Pike keeps his pencils. It had been waiting since March, he says, and I believe him, because the envelope still smelled of the rain that came through the roof the week you left. You wrote that the sea at Weymouth was the colour of pewter and that you had finally bought a proper hat. You wrote that you were blessed, and underlined it twice, the way you used to underline things you were trying not to be sorry for.

I read it again on the bench under the clock. I kept looking at the loop you drew above the first letter, as if the whole word might lift off the line and go on without us. Mr Pike says that's nonsense, that a word is only ink and a bit of hope, but he doesn't have to sit under that clock every evening deciding which train to not catch.

So I've bought a return ticket to Weymouth, dated Saturday, and I'm writing this on the back of the timetable so the guard can't say I'm not travelling. If you're down there, look for the man with the cello. Tell him the trains still stop here on Sundays. Let him believe it.