Close view of a blue faceted diamond tattoo on a woman's lower abdomen, above black underwear, with a red-nailed hand resting on her hip.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Blue diamond tattoo on a lower abdomen

Geometric · Other · Colour · Photo

A woman's bare midriff is shown from the side, with her hand resting on her hip. A faceted blue diamond with soft shading and a blurred shadow sits on the lower abdomen, above the waistband of black underwear. The background is a plain beige tone and the image is evenly lit with the tattoo as the focal point.

Geometric Other Diamond Gem Gemstone

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain has been coming sideways down Gallow Row since six, and you have tarpaulin pegged over the trestle so the glass cases don't fog. Old Mr Teague, who has sold wristwatches from the pitch next door for forty years, leans under your awning and tells you the blue stone in the bottom tray is worth more than the whole stall. You laugh, because he has said things like that since you were nineteen and still believed him sometimes.

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A woman in a yellow mac comes back at closing, shaking water from her hair. She bought the stone for a pound from the tray of odds and ends, and this afternoon a jeweller on Clement Street offered her four hundred for it. She wants to know if you knew. You tell her the truth: you took it for glass, the same as everything else in that tray, and you priced it like glass because that is what the rain and the lamp and your own tired eyes allowed you to see.

She doesn't ask for the money back. Instead she asks you to hold it up to the work lamp. Blue light breaks across the wet canvas and you see the facets for the first time, a row of small hard fires inside the stone that the grey afternoon had been hiding. She says the stone was never the point, that it's the shadow it throws that people pay for, and then she walks off between the dripping stalls without looking back.

You pack up alone. At home you set the stone on the windowsill, and the streetlamp pours through it onto the wood, a soft blue shadow pooling beneath it that is larger than the stone itself. You sit there until the shadow moves, and you decide, for the first time in years, to stop pricing things before you have looked at them properly.