Close view of a fine line script tattoo reading 'to make each day count' along the side ribs, partly under a black garment.

Fine line script quote on the side ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line script quote runs horizontally across the side of the torso, just below a black garment band. The thin black linework is even and the lettering is legible in most places, with the final words partly cut off at the edge of the frame. The ink is black on warm skin, set against a red background and a white area on the left.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pen was still damp when Mrs Halloran pushed the envelope across the counter of the Ashby post office and said it would go on the morning train. You had written the line four times on the back of a card before you were satisfied, the words sloping uphill because the table wobbled, and now it was sealed under a two-penny stamp and there was no taking it back.

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Your brother had been gone since March. The telegram came to the farm in April, folded twice, and your mother read it aloud standing in the kitchen, then sat down on the step and shelled peas that did not need shelling. Nobody in Ashby knew what to say to you, so they talked about the weather, and the baker left a loaf on the step every Thursday wrapped in brown paper with no note inside.

The words came from the calendar pinned in the back room of the chapel hall, under a picture of a lighthouse: to make each day count. It sounded like something a vicar would say over a coffin, and you almost tore it up. You kept it because it was the only sentence you could find that did not ask him to come home, and you had stopped being able to ask for anything else.

Mrs Halloran stamped it twice. "He'll have it by the end of the month," she said, which was not a promise either of you could keep. You walked back down the High Street slower than you had come, past the bakery, and for the first time since April you noticed the smell of the bread and stopped to breathe it in.

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