Colour lettering tattoo spelling CHICAGO across a forearm, with each letter filled with bold red, blue, orange, green and yellow patterns.

Chicago lettering on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Colour · Photo

The word CHICAGO runs across the inner forearm in large block capitals, each letter outlined in black. Every letter is filled with a different patterned design in red, blue, orange, green and yellow. The shading is bold and the composition is straight across the arm with the wearer's shirt sleeves visible behind.

Lettering Forearm Lettering Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Okafor side had worn red since the grandmother's time, and the Lindqvist side had never once in forty years agreed on a Saturday that didn't end with somebody sulking in a car park. So when Ruth Lindqvist said she would marry the Okafor boy only if the wedding cake was cut down the middle, nobody at the hall believed her. Her father set his hat on the table and counted the forks twice.

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Mrs Pell, who baked for every wedding in the valley, didn't argue. She made one tall cake and piped the word CHICAGO across its side in tall block capitals, each letter outlined in black and filled with a different pattern. The C was green and yellow with a little gold, the H and the I were red and striped like a barn door, the second C was blue with a white band, the A was blue and orange, and the final G and O were orange and blue together. Each family found their colours and went quiet. Nobody could say who had won.

When the speeches began, Old Tomas stood up with the gravy boat still in his hand and read the letters out loud, slowly, the way a man reads a will. He said the C at the front was for the Lindqvists who had kept the lake boats, the red letters were for the Okafors who had kept the bakery, and the rest were for the children who had married in between. Then he said that a word was only a word if everyone agreed how to spell it.

Ruth cut the cake with her husband's pocket knife, straight through the middle of the last O. Her father took the piece with the green C, her mother took the blue, and the dog got the crumbs from the red H. Later, someone found the bread knife in the sink and asked why nobody had used it, and nobody could remember.