Close view of a small black fine line script tattoo reading everlong on the upper chest, with a hand holding the edge of a white top.

Everlong script on upper chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is the single word everlong in a thin, connected cursive script in black ink. It sits on the upper chest just below the collarbone, and the lettering is set slightly diagonally with a clean, even line weight. The shot is a close crop of skin, a loose white top and two hands with dark nail polish, and the tattoo is the clear focal point against the pale skin.

Fine line Lettering Chest Word Script Cursive

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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

The seed tin came to me in a shoebox with my mother's handwriting on the lid, the labels half faded. Everlong sweet peas, she'd written, and underneath, do not let them dry out. I had kept the tin on the windowsill for eleven years without opening it, which is its own kind of promise a person makes to a garden.

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In March I knelt by the south wall with a trowel and a jam jar of water, the soil still cold enough to sting my knuckles. Mr Okafor from next door leaned over the fence to ask whether I was planting or burying something. I told him the truth, that I didn't know yet. The seeds were grey and hard as grit. Soak them overnight, the note said, and nick the shell with a file if you have the patience.

They came up in May, a thin green thread along the trellis, then tendrils, then flowers the colour of a bruise going pale at the edges. Mum's hand had written one more line in the margin of a seed catalogue pressed inside the lid. Keep picking them or they stop. So I picked them every morning all summer and gave them away to the postwoman, the church flower rota, the girl who sold eggs at the gate.

By October the wall was still covered, long past anything a sensible bloom should last, and I stopped trying to explain it to anyone. I dried a handful between sheets of blotting paper and slid them into the tin beside the empty packet. The lid closed with a small click. Next spring I'll sow it all again.