Colour lettering tattoo reading 'the ones that love us never really leave us' with roses and peonies on a thigh.

Floral quote lettering on a thigh

Lettering · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows the words 'the ones that love us never really leave us' in bold black and script lettering, with some letters decorated with fine leaf and line detailing. Red roses, blue peonies, purple sprigs and green foliage surround the text, with soft shading on the petals and leaves. It sits across the outer thigh, photographed straight on against a plain skin background.

Lettering Botanical Thigh Quote Lettering Rose Peony Flower Leaves Foliage Sprig

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The umbrella comes in first, as it always does, a black one with a snapped rib, and you give it a brown tag and the shelf nearest the window. Nobody will claim it. Nobody claims most things. Lost property at Coldmarsh Halt is a drawer of unfinished journeys, and you are the one who has to decide which of them are finished.

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Margaret taught you the trick of it in your first week, when the radiator ticked and the 7.14 to Sheffield was a quarter hour late. She said people don't come back for the object, they come back for the afternoon they lost it in. So you listen for the detail. Blue wool, she said, always blue. Someone's mother knitted it.

On Thursday a man in a wet waxed coat asks for a left glove, navy, with a cable down the cuff. You have it in the third drawer, wrapped in a paper bag. He turns it over twice and doesn't put it on. He tells you his sister knitted them the winter before she moved north, and that he has been wearing the right one alone for three years because the left one stayed in a coat he never got around to emptying. Then he says, almost to himself, that she always swore the people who loved you never really went anywhere, and he has never once believed her.

You nod, because Margaret nodded. Then you notice, pressed flat inside the cuff, a sprig of dried lavender, purple gone to grey, still tucked there the way a sister would tuck it. He pays the one pound handling fee in coins and pulls the glove on over his cold hand, the pair of them together at last. He walks out under the umbrella he came in with, leaving the paper bag on the counter for you to file.