Fine line heart tattoo with small script on the upper arm of a woman with her back to the camera, facing the sea at dusk.

Heart with script on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman seen from behind stands on a beach at dusk, facing the sea with her back bare and long wavy hair falling down. A small black fine line heart tattoo containing tiny script sits on her upper arm, with a faint small mark on her other arm. The image is mostly soft pastel tones of sky and water, with the tattoo in dark grey ink.

Fine line Lettering Upper arm Heart Script Lettering Beach Ocean Sunset

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Maud Keane found the tin on a Tuesday, wedged among mussel shells and a clay pipe stem in the bottom of her dredging net. It was no bigger than a matchbox, the brass gone green at the hinges, and inside lay a heart-shaped plate so thin it bent like a leaf. The writing on it was smaller than anything she had read without a magnifier, a line of script curling round the edge: Meet me where the groyne ends when the tide turns. Bring the gull feather.

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She had no gull feather, so she took a white one from the bin behind the chandlery and spent the evening at the kitchen table with the parish registers spread out like a tablecloth. Among the crew lists for 1911 she found a Jack Lowry, deckhand, signed on for the Newfoundland run and never signed off again. His name was nowhere in the burial book. Someone had drawn a small heart beside it in the margin, in ink faded to the colour of weak tea.

At dusk she walked out along the wet stones of the groyne with the feather tucked into her coat. The light went from pink to pewter. The tide turned and began to creep up the sand, and she waited until the cold reached her ankles, feeling foolish and not quite wanting to leave. Nobody came. A gull landed, considered her, and left.

When she got home there was a shell on her doorstep, a thin white one with a tiny scratched heart, and on the inside, in the same curling hand: Late, as ever. Beneath it, in a different and steadier script, Come again Tuesday.