Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Cartoon figure flying on a broom on the back
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A cartoon figure with round glasses and dark hair flies horizontally on a broom, with a red cape streaming behind and motion lines trailing to the left. The outlines are bold and the clothing is filled with soft blue, yellow, orange and red tones with light shading. The figure sits across the middle of a freckled patch of skin, with the broom handle angled diagonally across the lower half.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Tuesday. Forty-one degrees by the thermometer nailed to the petrol pump, and the kettle has given up twice. Just before noon a lad in a postman's shirt came round the back of the garage with a broom under one arm and a red cape knotted at his throat, the colour of tinned tomatoes. Ferris Oakes, he said, and asked if I had a hose clamp, because the bristles on his broom had started to slide off the handle over the Cinder Flats. He'd been running parcels out to the scattered homesteads since Easter, the van's diesel having died somewhere near the dry lake. His spectacles were furred with dust and he kept pushing them up with one knuckle.
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I clamped the broom with the blue hose I keep for the compressor. He wouldn't take money, just a cup of tea he didn't drink, and a look at the sky to the west, where a dust front was building like a bruise. He swung a leg over, lay low along the shaft, and the cape filled and snapped behind him. A hawk came up from the fence posts to keep him company for a mile or two, then gave up.
Thursday a postcard arrived from a town called Ludlow with no stamp on it, only a red postmark and a scribble of three quick lines drawn behind a stick figure, the way a child draws speed. The message said the parcels were all delivered and the broom was holding. I pinned the card above the till beside the cape he left behind, which I'd picked off the fence wire where it caught on the barbs. The wind has been at it ever since, and it still hasn't torn.
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