Black and white photo of two clasped hands, with a small cross tattoo on one finger and an infinity symbol with a cross on another, in fine line style on the hand.

Cross and infinity finger tattoos

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are clasped together, showing a small cross tattoo on one finger and an infinity symbol with a cross running through it on another finger. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the photograph is in black and white. The composition is close, with the tattoos sitting centrally and the fingers framing them.

Fine line Hand Cross Infinity symbol Hand Finger

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The oven at Pardoe's was still cold when Ada first set her knife to the dough, and old Mr Pardoe used to say that bread made in the dark would only rise if someone promised it something. So she cut a small cross into the top of every loaf before it went onto the board, one clean stroke each, because the steam needed a way out and a cross gave it the most honest door.

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Her cousin Wil laughed at her from the flour bin. He said a cross was for luck and not for steam, and she told him luck was only steam that had been waiting longer. They made a wager on the sack by the door: whichever of their batches rose higher by the time the first cart rattled past would take the Sunday corner, the warm end of the shelf where the customers always reached first. To seal it, Wil pulled a length of white twine from his apron and tied it around her wrist, then looped the other end around his own, crossing it over and under until the knot folded back on itself like the figure eight the old men drew in the dust of the yard.

The grey light came through the shutters a little after five. Mr Pardoe lifted the cloths, counted the loaves with one finger, and said nothing about who had won. The carts took the bread away still ticking as it cooled. When the two of them finally sat on the step with the last heel between them, neither could say whose batch had risen first, so they tore the loaf in half and gave each other the bigger piece. The twine was still knotted between them, and the crumb was warm through the crust, and the flour had settled into the creases of both their knuckles where neither could quite wash it out.