Black and grey traditional flash drawing of a heart holding an umbrella in the rain, with lightning, a beaded line, flowers and leaves, and the words It's Rainin' Inside.

Heart with umbrella and rain, It's Rainin' Inside

Traditional · Black and grey · Flash

A pencil and ink drawing of a heart with an open umbrella across its top, rain lines falling beneath it and lightning bolts on the outer edges. Below the heart sit a beaded line, a bold flower and pointed leaves, and the words IT'S RAININ' INSIDE curve around the top and right. The linework is bold and even, with light pencil shading on the umbrella and cloud bands, and the design is entirely black and grey.

Traditional Heart Umbrella Rain Lightning Flower Leaves Bead Cloud Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Mum, the rain got into Ward 7B again tonight, right above the sluice room, and by two o'clock Sandra had a bucket under the drip and a black umbrella hooked over the linen trolley as if that were the most normal thing in the world. Nobody has told estates that the roof is giving up. I suppose someone has told them, but the form is still sitting in a tray somewhere under a pile of sticky-note reminders.

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Mr Pryce in bed six asked whether it was raining outside. I said no, love, it's raining in. He laughed so hard he set off his own cough, and then he told me about the summer his father rebuilt the chapel roof with nothing but a borrowed ladder and a bad temper, and how the lightning came through the east window and took half the hymn board with it. I wrote none of this down, which you'd call unprofessional, but I think I'll remember it anyway.

Around four the storm broke over the car park and the strip lights stuttered, and for a minute the whole corridor went blue and quiet, with just the drip and the slosh of the bucket. Sandra stood in the middle of the ward under her umbrella like a woman waiting for a bus that had been cancelled. Then the lights came back, the bucket was overflowing, and somebody had to find a mop.

Before I left at seven I hung my own umbrella on the peg by the sink to dry. It's probably still there, dripping onto the lino for the day staff to swear at. Keep the kettle on. I'll ring you Sunday, when the forecast says the sky will finally behave.