Black and white photo of a raised hand showing fine line script reading good vibes on the inner wrist.

Good vibes script on inner wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a hand raised with the palm facing the camera, showing the words good vibes in a single-line handwritten script on the inner wrist. The lettering is drawn in thin, even black strokes with a slightly joined, cursive feel, and the ink is crisp against the skin. The image is greyscale, with a plain light background that keeps the focus on the tattoo and the hand.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Script Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The banner over the kitchen hatch said WELCOME BACK, LEAVERS OF 1994, and the glitter on the final S had given up in the damp. Margaret counted the trestle tables twice before she noticed Gary Poulter in the corner, setting out paper plates with the care of a man defusing something. She had not seen him since the Christmas disco, when he swore his cousin's band was playing the Dome and she believed him for most of a term.

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He came over with two plastic cups of squash and a look of real alarm. "You've got to see Ruth's badge," he said. "Don't ask me how she's still got the pen."

Ruth was by the window, pinning name stickers on people with a nurse's efficiency. Her own sticker read RUTH HENSHAW in capitals, and under it, in blue biro gone soft and blurred, someone had written good vibes with a flourish on the final s. It was the handwriting that stopped Margaret. Mr Dacey's Thursday registration had been a blur of detention slips, but Year Nine had belonged to the boy who sat behind her and wrote the phrase on everybody's wrists in biro, and then on their planners, and then on the back of the dinner register until the caretaker banned him from the library.

"He's not coming," Ruth said, tapping the sticker. "Bloke in the Co-op said he'd emigrated. I kept the pen because it was the only thing he ever finished."

Margaret looked at the blurred letters for a long moment, then took a biro from her handbag, pulled back her cuff, and wrote the words again on the inside of her wrist, sloping and careless, exactly as he used to. Gary laughed and asked if it would last till the pudding. It would, she said. She had always been bad at keeping things off her skin.