Enough in script on the upper chest
Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo
A small black tattoo of the word enough in cursive script sits on the upper chest. The thin, even linework joins the letters smoothly, and the ink is solid black with no shading. A red and cream top strap runs down the right edge of the frame, and the surrounding skin is softly out of focus.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The Nell Rowan had sat at the bottom of Stoke Lock since the November floods, and Hal had been meaning to shift her for three weeks. Every morning I came down the towpath with a flask and found him on the roof with a wire brush, working the same yard of gunwale as if the paint owed him money.
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'You'll wear the brass off that,' I said.
'Gran's note's still behind the stove,' he said, not looking up. 'Come and see.'
It was a scrap of card folded twice and pencilled in the looping hand she used for the lock keepers' Christmas cards. One word, pressed hard enough to dent the paper: enough. Hal said she'd written it the winter Grandad drank the coal money, and that she kept it where she could see it each time she lit the stove. I thought of her in that cramped galley counting out bread, tea and matches, and deciding each night that there was enough, because there had to be.
'Are we keeping it?' I asked.
'Where would it go?'
So that afternoon I sat on the cabin step with a tin of cream gloss and a brush too fine for the job, and I wrote it on the inside of the cupboard door above the kettle, joining the letters the way she had, one long unbroken stroke. When the water came up through the lock and the Nell Rowan lifted, slow and dripping, out of the dark, the word was the first thing I saw through the hatch, catching the light.
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