Black and grey tattoo of the state of California on the upper arm, showing a bear, pine trees, a bridge and the word California.

California state outline tattoo on upper arm

Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows the outline of the state of California filled with scenes including a bear walking above a bridge, tall trees and a hillside. The word California is written across the middle, with the numbers 210 and 1112 VI below it. The linework and shading are in black and grey, and the design wraps along the outer upper arm.

Upper arm State outline Bear Tree Bridge Number Lettering Landscape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The first tray was already cooling on the rack when the bear came down Juniper Street, which Harlan swore it had never done in forty years of living above the bakery. I heard it before I saw it, a heavy slow tread on the wet cobbles, and then a shape against the grey window of the back door, nose working at the crack under it like it had been sent for the bread.

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Harlan had left me a list taped to the flour bin the night before. Most of it was ordinary: check the proof, ring the mill, do not let the boy sweep before the ovens are full. The last line was underlined twice. Feed what comes down from the trees before the sun clears the ridge. The old clock above the racks had its Roman numerals painted crooked, and it said eleven past twelve, which meant it was really closer to four, but Harlan kept it that way so the bakers would never trust it and always check the dial. The oven was set at 210 and it was holding.

I tore the heel off a sourdough and opened the door a hand's width. The bear took the bread from my fingers as gently as a customer taking change, then turned and walked up the hill towards the trees with the loaf held in its jaws like a handbag. I followed as far as the old iron bridge at the bottom of the road, where the river runs fast and brown and the hills stand up behind it like a sheet of paper somebody has folded.

I sat on the rail with the last warm loaf in my lap and watched the sun lift itself over the ridge, one edge then the whole of it. The bear was on the far bank, licking its paws. I broke the bread in half, threw the bigger piece across the water, and wrote the count on the masking tape with a pencil stub: twelve in, one out, bridge crossed, day begun.