Colour tattoo of a cheeseburger pierced by a black arrow, with bold outlines, on the outer thigh of a person wearing dark shorts.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cheeseburger with an arrow on a thigh

Traditional · Thigh · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a cheeseburger with a sesame seed top bun, green lettuce, a red tomato slice, yellow cheese and a brown patty, with a black arrow passing through it diagonally. Thick black outlines define the shapes and the colours are flat with light shading on the bun. The design sits on the outer thigh and is framed against a grey top and dark shorts.

Traditional Thigh Arrow Cheese Food

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tuesday, twenty to four in the morning. Ward 7 has gone quiet for the first time since midnight, so I am writing this on the back of a drug chart while the kettle makes up its mind. Mrs Okafor's sats are holding, the new registrar has stopped asking me to repeat things, and the corridor lights have dropped to their amber setting, which always makes the linen trolleys look like they're waiting for someone to come back for them.

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Dev came up the back stairs at half three with a paper bag from the van on the car park, which he is not supposed to do, and which I am writing down so that I remember how hungry I was. The burger was still warm enough to fog the paper. He had pinned the top bun to the patty with a sharpened paper straw, a little black spike that poked out the side like a dart. I asked him why he hadn't used a cocktail stick like a normal person. He said a straw was what he had in his pocket, and that a burger should always be held together by something that means business.

We ate in the sluice room, sitting on upturned buckets with the door propped open for the draught. The lettuce was limp and the cheese had gone slightly rubbery, but the tomato was red and cold and the bun had tiny seeds on it that I kept picking off like tally marks. Dev told me his nan used to say a good night shift is one where you eat something you chose yourself. I told him that was the most sensible thing anyone had said to me since the weekend.

The pager went off just as I'd wiped my fingers. Bed 12, a fall, nothing broken as far as anyone can tell yet. I put the straw in my tunic pocket without thinking, and I'm still holding it now, the paper gone soft from my hand. I'm going to keep it. Some things hold a whole night together, even when everything else is falling apart around them.