Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Grey cat in grass on a thigh

Realism · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A grey cat in profile faces left, set against a dotted yellow sun and a translucent blue circle. Long green grass rises behind its head, and a purple flower with dotted geometric lines sits below a second translucent blue shape. The fur is shaded in soft greys with fine hatching, while the sun, grass and flower use colour and stippling across the skin.

Realism Dotwork Geometric Thigh Cat Grass Sun Flower Circle Geometric line Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Agnes,

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The cat came in again this morning, the grey one from number nine, and sat on the flour sacks as if she owned the bakery. I didn't shoo her. You told me never to, and I've found I don't want to after months of being up before the birds. At four the lane is only lamplight and the hum of the proving cabinet. By half past five the window over the sink has gone the colour of weak tea, and the first pale disc of sun sits low over the bins across the road, dotted round its edge as if someone had pressed a pin into it again and again.

Mr Okafor from the chemist came for his sourdough at six, as he does, and asked after you. I said you were in Cornwall with your sister and that the rye had gone flat twice this week. He said the grass in the square had gone to seed and he'd never seen it so tall. I thought of the tufts coming up through the cracks by the bus shelter, green as bruises, and of the cat walking through them with her nose lifted, looking at something I couldn't see.

Sensible things first, since you'll want them. The oven on the left runs hot after the second batch, so bake the tins on the right. The blue ribbon on the till roll is nearly gone. I've left the sun-dried tomato loaves on the rack for the church hall. And the cat ate the last of the cheese scones, so you owe her an apology.

Something came over me this morning, standing in the flour dust while the light came up. The bread was never mine to make alone, and neither was the morning. I wrote you a list of instructions because I didn't know how else to say I miss you. Come home when the rye is sorted. The cat will be waiting on the sacks, and so will I.

Yours in flour, Ruth