Close view of a woman lying on a bed, showing a fine line black script tattoo of a short phrase along her left side ribs.

Fine line script on the side ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A woman lies on a white bed in a grey top and denim shorts, with her face out of frame. A thin black script line runs diagonally across her side above the waistband, with a delicate, handwritten linework style. The tattoo is in black ink on warm skin, set against soft, neutral bedding.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Quote Handwriting

Find an artist for this

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 ovens have been on since four, and the flour on your forearms has dried to a pale crust by the time the shutter rolls up. Mrs Okafor's order sits on the steel bench in her careful capitals: twelve rye, six split tins, and a note folded twice that she never explains. You have baked for her every Tuesday for three years and you have never once opened the note.

Keep reading

This Tuesday the dough behaves badly. It slumps when you turn it, and you spend the first hour talking to it under your breath the way your grandmother did, telling it what it is for. Somewhere past six the window turns the colour of weak tea, and you find yourself looking at the paper bags stacked by the door. On the first batch you ever sold, you wrote a line along the side of one in biro, a joke about yourself that you never meant anyone to read: you are so much more than the bread you hand across the counter. You forgot about it within the hour.

Mrs Okafor comes in at seven, unhurried, and taps the counter twice. She does not reach for the bag. Instead she unfolds the note and turns it so you can read it: a single pencil line in her looping hand. The rye got me through the winter my husband was in hospital. I kept coming in for it, and I think I kept coming in for you.

You say nothing useful. You wrap her loaves in brown paper and tie the string twice, the way she likes it. When she goes out into the grey street you notice she has left the note on the counter, folded small, and beside it the bag you wrote on, the words facing up.