Black script tattoo reading "It only takes a little push to pull on through" beside a small outlined heart with an eye, on the upper arm.

Heart and eye with script quote on an arm

Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A black script quote runs in two lines across the inner upper arm, with a small outlined heart containing an eye at the left. The linework is clean and fine, with the lettering set in a flowing cursive hand. The tattoo is shown in black ink against lightly toned skin, and the photo is framed to keep the arm centred.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift in Harrow Court had stopped between the seventh and eighth floors again, and Mrs Adaeze Morrow pressed the red button with the flat of her thumb, as though it had insulted her. Her grandson Tobi sat on his rucksack in the corner, dragging the shopping bags out of the way of his feet. "It's fine, Nan," he said. "Someone'll come."

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"Nobody comes on a Thursday," she said. "On a Thursday you do it yourself."

Her own gran had told her the story back home, the way old women told things, flat and certain. There was a heart of hammered tin hung in the shaft of every building the council put up, with an eye punched into its middle so it could see the dark for the people inside. When the cage stuck, you did not shout for the man with the keys. You said the words you had been given, which were always the same, and you put your palms to the doors and pushed. It only takes a little push, her gran had said, to pull on through. Nobody believed it, and everybody did it anyway.

Tobi laughed, then stopped laughing, because the lamp in the ceiling flickered and the cage gave a shudder that climbed up through the soles of their shoes. Mrs Morrow worked her fingers into the gap where the doors met, and the boy worked his beside hers, and they leaned. Metal ground. Light spilled in from the eighth floor landing, grey and ordinary, smelling of bleach and somebody's onions.

They stepped out. The lift sighed back into its shaft. Tobi dug a scrap of paper from his coat, soft from folding, with the words written in her careful hand years ago, and she took it and read it aloud as if it were news. "Well," she said, folding it back into his pocket. "Now you know it works."

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