Black and grey photograph of a fine line script tattoo running along a forearm, styled as flowing handwritten lettering.

Fine line script on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a forearm with a single-line script tattoo running diagonally from the wrist towards the elbow. The lettering appears to read two names joined by an ampersand, with long looping strokes and a thin, even line weight. The background is softly blurred, which keeps the focus on the lettering against the skin.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Lettering Ampersand Name

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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 grease pencil lives in my apron pocket, and before the shutters go up I use it to write names on the proving tins. Mrs Okafor's cob, the Pruitt boys' split tin, the rye that goes up the hill to the hospital. Gerald on the till says I should use the printed labels the council paid for, but a label never tells you who has been waiting.

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The tin I write most carefully is the one on the end shelf, the one with no customer. Every morning I write two names on it and an ampersand I have never managed to draw neatly. Mabel & Ruby. Then I wrap the loaf in a clean cloth and set it on the sill above the back step, where the wind off the canal gets under the linen. Nobody has collected it in eleven years. Mabel was my wife's sister. Ruby was the one who left for Leeds with a fare in her glove and a promise to send a postcard from every town she passed through, and she sent exactly one.

Last Tuesday the cloth lay folded on the step, empty, with a bread knife beside it wrapped in brown paper. On the paper, in a looping hand that had clearly been practised, someone had written the same two names, the ampersand leaning like a man waiting for a bus.

Underneath it said: Still warm when I got here. I put the kettle on and waited for the light.