Fine line black script tattoo reading dance with a small heart after it, on the inner wrist and forearm.

Dance script with a heart on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a single word, dance, written in thin black cursive script across the inner wrist. A small heart outline sits after the final letter. The linework is even and fine, with no shading, and the ink is dark against the skin tone.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Heart Word

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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

Maureen Tully had catalogued the strange things of Castlemere Junction for twenty-two years, and she thought she had seen everything the 6.40 to Leeds could leave behind: umbrellas, a stuffed owl, three wedding rings in a sandwich bag. The brown box that arrived on a Tuesday held a pair of pointe shoes wrapped in yellowed tissue, their satin gone the colour of weak tea. Tucked inside the left one was a card no bigger than a bus pass.

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Someone had written a single word on it in thin, careful pencil. Dance. After it, a small heart, drawn in one loop that closed without lifting the lead.

She logged the shoes under their reference number and the card under a note of its own, which felt absurd, and then she sat with it through the lunchtime rush. The tannoy called the Scarborough service twice. A man asked whether the 4.15 had been cancelled. Maureen kept turning the card over, half expecting a name on the back.

Nobody came for the shoes for nineteen days. On the twentieth, a woman in a navy anorak stood at the hatch and asked, without quite looking up, whether anything had been handed in from the Leeds train. Maureen slid the tissue parcel across the counter and watched her hands. When the card came out, the woman read it, pressed her thumb over the heart as if smoothing a crease, and folded it into her coat pocket without a word. Maureen didn't ask. She stamped the collection slip, and the woman walked off toward the footbridge with the shoes held flat against her chest, and Maureen stood under the clock until the next train pulled in.