Crescent moon and sun finger tattoos

'You've made the sun too fat,' she said. 'It's meant to look spiky, like a dog's been at it.' He took the pen out of his mouth and added another ray. They had argued all month about their shifts. She worked the early turn, when the light came up over the goods yard, and he took nights, when the platform lamps buzzed and the moths gathered. Neither of them would say which was the better job. They only agreed that whoever was left behind would keep the other's kettle warm.

When the tattoo parlour above the bakery opened on the Saturday, the man with the needles asked them to hold still and bring their hands together, so the two small marks would sit side by side on neighbouring fingers. Ted's crescent came out facing the wrong way, and he swore it was deliberate. Nell said nothing and kept her hand flat on the counter so the ink would not smudge.

Afterwards they walked down to the platform, where the evening train stood with its doors open and its windows gone gold. Nell lifted her hand toward the carriage lights, and the sun caught the glow. 'Now you can't say you're never up when I'm down,' she said. Ted laughed, and behind them the signal dropped to green, and for once neither of them had anywhere else to be.