Close-up of a black typewriter-style tattoo reading don't blink on the upper chest near the collarbone, with blonde hair and a grey top visible.

Don't blink lettering on the upper chest

Lettering · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

The image shows a close-up of a single line of black lettering reading don't blink, set in a typewriter-style serif font. The letters are crisp and solid, with no shading, and the tattoo sits just above the collarbone on the upper chest. The skin tone, dark grey top and blonde hair in the background make up the rest of the composition, which is a casual, slightly soft phone photograph.

Lettering Chest Phrase Word Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Halloway Garage sat forty miles from anywhere on the Carrow Flats road, and Ruth Pellow had kept its ledgers on the same black typewriter for nineteen years. Pinned above it was a card her father had typed the week he bought the place, the keys struck so hard the letters bit through the paper: DON'T BLINK. The heat off the tarmac did strange things to the view after noon, so he had meant it as a joke, mostly. Ruth had never found it funny.

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The lorry came in at half past three on a Tuesday, its headlamps still burning in the glare. The driver, a man called Osei with flour-white knuckles, asked for ten litres and a cup of tea, and while the pump ticked over he told her about a mirage he'd seen north of the salt pan, a line of water with a church spire standing in it. "Gone when I looked back," he said. "Gone when I blinked, I mean." Ruth didn't type anything that day, but she thought about it all evening.

That night she sat at the typewriter with the lights off and the moon making a grey square on the floor. She wrote a letter to her father's old partner, one sentence at a time, deleting nothing. Her eyes stung. Outside, the road ran pale and empty to the horizon, and for once she did not watch it. She let her lids come down slowly, counted to three, and heard the keys go on without her.

When she looked up the letter was finished, and at the bottom, in the same hard capitals her father used, she had typed one more line: I CHECKED. THE ROAD IS STILL THERE.