Small black fine line tattoo of a minimalist chair on the wrist of a hand with grey painted nails, against a dark background.

Chair outline tattoo on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo of a stylised chair sits on the inside of a wrist. The linework is loose and slightly broken, with the seat, backrest and two visible legs drawn in simple strokes. The ink is solid black on pale skin, and the hand is curled above the design against a dark navy background.

Fine line Forearm Line drawing Minimal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The chair went onto the barge at Thrapston because Ada Corby would not leave it on the bank for the rain. It was a plain thing, one bent seat of ash and a back that curved like a held breath. Her husband Tom said it was no use to a boat, there was no room for sitting when the cargo was coal and the coal was always shifting, but he carried it aboard anyway and wedged it behind the tiller.

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She sat in it on the long locks, in the hours when the boat waited for the water to rise. Tom worked the tiller and she worked her needles, and the chair took her weight the way a good dog does, without fuss. Down the Nene and out onto the Great Ouse they went, past the beet fields and the sluices with their green doors, and when the front legs worked loose in the wet she shimmed them with folded paper from the tea tin.

In the February flood the barge slewed on the Hermitage bend and the chair went over the side. Tom swore he saw it float, legs in the air, like something hunting. Ada did not weep. She walked the towpath for three miles calling the name she had given it, which was Patience, until the lock-keeper's boy pulled it from the reeds with a boathook and carried it up the bank on his shoulders.

Ada rode home on the coal heap after that and never asked Tom for another chair. Every evening she set Patience at the stern, and she sat in it with its wet legs drying in the last light, watching the water go past as if it owed her an account.