Colour tattoo of a headless figure in a green suit and yellow tie, with a tangled knot of red, yellow, blue and green lines for a head, on the upper arm.

Headless suited figure with tangled head

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A bold outlined illustration of a headless figure in a green suit jacket, blue-shaded lapels and a yellow and red striped tie. The head is replaced by a dense tangle of looping red, yellow, blue and green lines with black outlines. Flat, saturated colour fills the clothing on a pale skin background against a pink wall.

Neo-trad Upper arm Figure Suit Tie Head Abstract

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The riser cupboard on the eleventh floor of Harcourt House smelled of hot dust and old carpet, and the wires had come loose from their junction box like someone had emptied a drawer of Christmas lights onto the floor. Donna Okafor knelt between the bins and the cold pipes with a torch in her teeth and a roll of masking tape on her wrist, sorting the cables by colour because the old labels had faded to nothing.

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Red ran to the lift phone, which had been dead since March. Yellow was the intercom into the lobby. Blue she could trace to a fire alarm nobody had tested in years. The green ones looped everywhere and went nowhere she could follow. Mr Pell from the managing agent came up every month in the same bottle-green suit, a clipboard held in front of him. On Monday he had told her that every problem in a building came down to the wiring, and that a clear head was the only sensible answer to anything. She had not asked him what he meant.

She followed the red line first, loop after loop through a drift of plaster dust, and it led not to the lift at all but to a flat on the ninth floor where Mrs Adeyemi had been ringing down about a leak for eight days. Donna wrote the flat number on the tape and pressed the strip onto the cable. Then she followed the yellow and the blue, printing each name in capitals the way her father had taught her to label the fuse box at home.

By four o'clock the bundle hung clean from its hook, every line tagged and sorted. In the lobby the intercom gave a single crackle, and Donna heard Mr Pell's voice, thin and patient, asking whether anyone had seen where he had left his head. She pressed the lift button and told him it was on the ninth floor, and that she was on her way up with the spanner.