Close-up of a fine line black script tattoo reading Dream on the upper chest of a woman in a white top, with layered necklaces and rings visible.

Fine line script word on upper chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A small cursive word, which appears to read Dream, is tattooed in black ink across the upper chest. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the tattoo sits just above the neckline of a white top that is gathered to one side. The composition is a tight crop showing the chest, jewellery and hands, with no face visible.

Fine line Lettering Chest Script Word Dream

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mae had been lettering shopfronts in Hebden Row for eleven years, and the rain that Saturday was making a mess of her gold leaf. She sheltered under the awning of the fish stall with a sable brush between her teeth, finishing the last curl of a barber's name on wet board, and watched the water run off the tarpaulins in ropes.

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Her uncle Ray kept the typewriter stall two pitches down, and he had sent over a woman in a navy mac who wanted one word written out, small, somewhere nobody would read it but her. "Not on a board," the woman said. "Just on paper, the way my husband used to write his letters." She held out an envelope soaked at one corner, the stamp gone soft. Mae asked what the word was. The woman looked at the rain for a long time before she said it.

Mae took a sheet of tracing paper from her apron and sat on an upturned crate. She had no pen fine enough, so she dipped an old nib in black sign ink and thinned it with a drop of turpentine, the way her father had shown her before he died. The letters came slow. She joined the D to the r with a loop he would have liked, and let the tail of the m trail off the edge like breath on a cold window.

When she handed it back, the woman folded it in half and then in half again, and pressed it flat against her chest under the mac. "Smaller than I asked," she said. Mae told her the word was small enough to carry. The woman nodded and walked off through the market, and the rain kept falling, and the ink on the paper, Mae noticed later, had not run at all.