Black and grey fine line tattoo of a horizontal bar with two downward-pointing triangles on the upper back, near the base of the neck.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line triangles and bar on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo sits on the upper back, just below the nape of the neck. It shows a thin horizontal line with two overlapping downward-pointing triangles beneath it, drawn in fine, precise linework with solid triangle fills. The photograph is black and white, with the woman's head turned away from the camera and a soft, plain background.

Fine line Geometric Back Triangle Line Geometric shape Bar

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The yoke cracked along its grain the week before the frost, and Mabry bound it with a strip of her dead husband's belt and carried the buckets anyway. The only well in Hollin Lane that did not turn sour by August was inside the walled garden at Thornwick House, and the gate there had been kept locked since the squire's wife planted her roses.

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Oswin the gardener kept the key on a loop of string round his neck. Every morning he watched from the potting shed while Mabry filled her pails at the iron ring, and every morning he said the same thing, that the water belonged to the house and the house was not in need of charity. She said nothing. She had learned that a silent woman with two buckets was harder to shift than a loud one.

On the first morning of the hard frost the gate stood open. Oswin was sitting on the rim of the well with his own pails at his feet, both empty, staring at the stones. "The spring has dropped," he said, and he looked at her as if she had done it. She laid the yoke across her shoulders, let the buckets hang from the two ends, and showed him how a bar held level will tell you where the water sits. Then she dipped a pail, lifted it, and poured the first measure into his. Both buckets swung to one height, the line between them flat as a spirit level, and she walked down the lane without a word. Oswin followed with the key still in his fist, and the water in his pails did not spill.