Black line tattoo of a diamond-shaped geometric lattice of eight-pointed stars on the forearm, shown in a close photo of the arm.

Geometric star lattice on forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A diamond-shaped design of small eight-pointed stars is linked by interlocking angular lines, forming a repeating lattice pattern. The linework is fine, even and solid black, with no shading, and the design fills a tall diamond across the arm. The skin is pale and the background is a plain grey shirt and wall, with the tattoo centred in the frame.

Geometric Fine line Forearm Star Lattice Diamond Pattern Geometric shape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The booking hall at Stennick Junction had a floor of nearly forty thousand tiles, and my father laid most of them himself the winter I turned nine. He worked from a sheet of squared paper he kept folded inside his cap, a diamond of small eight-pointed stars joined by angled lines, copied from my grandmother's lace antimacassar. Nobody else was allowed to set the centre. The apprentice got the edges and the sweeping, and was told so twice.

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For thirty years the floor held. People crossed it to buy tickets, to meet trains, to wait out the rain under the clock. Only my father ever noticed that one star in the third row sat a quarter turn out of true, pointing towards the platform gate instead of the ticket window. When anyone asked, he said the paper was right and the floor had been laid by a tired man on a cold day. He never fixed it.

In the spring they came with a surveyor and a tape measure to lift the old floor. I stayed late on the Thursday with a torch and a claw hammer, and I prised up the crooked tile before the crew could. Underneath it, pressed flat against the screed, was a second sheet of squared paper. The stars on it faced the same way as the ones in the floor. Written beneath, in his square capitals: IT POINTS THE WAY OUT. THEY ALWAYS MISS IT.

I caught the last train home with the tile wrapped in my scarf. From the window the platform lamps made the wet tarmac shine in long diagonal lines, and I found myself counting stars in the reflections, following each one to the gate.