Black and white photo of two hands with traditional-style finger tattoos of block letters, an umbrella, a rain cloud, a crescent moon and a star.

Finger lettering with umbrella, cloud, moon and star

Traditional · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are shown palms down with bold black outline lettering across the fingers, spelling a word that is partly cut off at the left edge. Small icons of an umbrella, a rain cloud, a crescent moon and a star sit between the letters. The linework is solid black with light grey shading in the cloud, and the photograph is monochrome with a plain dark background.

Traditional Lettering Hand Lettering Umbrella Cloud Rain Moon Star Finger

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The watch had stopped at twenty past four, and Ada had carried it across town wrapped in a fold of her mother's headscarf, as if the cloth might keep the rain off the works. She set it down on the counter between a tin of screws and a jar of dead batteries. "It's been wet since Thursday," she said, as though that explained everything.

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Harold lifted the case with his loupe and turned it to the lamp. Inside, the movement had rusted in a ring the size of a thumbprint. "Water gets in at the back," he said. "It always does." He told her about his father's shop on Ashfield Row, where the sign had shown an umbrella over a clock face, so people knew the door was open in bad weather. Harold had painted the moon and the star beside it himself, in 1961, because his father said a clockmaker should keep one eye on the night and one on the sky.

She asked whether it could be saved. Harold said everything could be saved if you were patient enough to take it apart. He worked until the lamp began to hum, lifting out each tiny wheel and laying it on a square of velvet in the order it had come out. Outside, the cloud over the chimney pots broke and let down a thin grey rain that ran in the gutters. Ada sat on the stool by the window and didn't ask for anything else.

At dusk he wound the watch, held it to his ear, and heard the escapement catch. He gave it back without a word. Ada slipped it into her coat pocket, where she could feel it ticking against her ribs as she walked out into the wet street, the shop bell ringing behind her.