Black line drawing flash sheet of four food designs on tracing paper: a sprinkled donut, pancakes with butter and flowers, a noodle box with chopsticks and hearts, and a pizza slice with dotted

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Donut, pancakes, takeaway and pizza flash sheet

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

A flash sheet of four separate food designs, each cut out from tracing paper: a sprinkled donut, a stack of pancakes with a pat of butter and a small flower, a takeaway noodle box with chopsticks and a heart, and a pizza slice with dotted hearts behind it. The drawings use bold black outlines with stippled dotwork shading on the pancakes, pizza and box. The sheet is entirely black ink on white, with each design spaced apart on the pale background.

Dotwork Sprinkles Flower Heart Pizza

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Gloria ordered the same four things every Thursday at half past eleven, so after the first month I stopped writing the order down. A sprinkled donut to start. A stack of pancakes she never finished, with a pat of butter melting on top like a little yellow roof. A noodle box with the chopsticks pushed in sideways, eaten standing up at the pass. Then one slice of pizza, folded in half, dripping at the tip.

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My sister Noor drew those four for the wall in March, on sheets of tracing paper she cut out with her nail scissors, and we stuck them up with Blu Tack between the order tickets and the hygiene certificate. Gloria stood in front of them for a long time one night and asked, very seriously, whether Noor would do them on skin. Noor said she only drew on paper. Gloria said paper was where everything started, and she had plenty of time to wait.

She stopped coming in the second week of May. The donut stayed on the wall, going soft at the corners from the steam. I kept the fryer on out of habit, and more than once I caught myself glancing at the door at half eleven.

On the third Thursday of June there was a carrier bag on the counter with my name written on it in biro. Inside was a fresh tracing-paper heart, its edges cut so carefully they were scalloped, and a note in Gloria's wobbly capitals: PUT THE HEARTS BEHIND THE PIZZA. THE BOX NEEDS ONE MORE. I taped it to the pass beside the others, and when the bell went at half eleven I didn't look up. I just reached for the pizza cutter.