Close-up of a dark blue-black script tattoo reading Imagine on an ankle and foot, worn with metallic strappy heeled sandals on a red carpet.

Imagine script tattoo on an ankle

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up of a bare leg and foot in metallic strappy heeled sandals, with a small script word reading Imagine on the skin near the ankle. The lettering is thin, with fine, even strokes in dark blue-black ink. The shot is taken from a low angle against a red carpet, with the tattoo as the focal point in the lower centre of the frame.

Lettering Fine line Ankle Script Foot High heel Sandal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Walter Quill had painted shop names along the sea front at Saltcombe for forty-one years, and he could tell a customer's mood by how they stood at the window. The woman who came in on a wet Tuesday in March stood like someone who had already decided. She wanted one word on the glass of her new bakery and nothing else, and she had copied it out in pencil on the back of a bus ticket. Imagine, it said, with the i dotted by a tiny circle, as if the writer had been in a hurry and then changed their mind.

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Walter mixed his black enamel thin, the way his father had taught him, and cut his brush down to three hairs. Script was the hardest work in the trade because it forgave nothing: every hairline stroke had to hold its weight without shouting. He worked the word backwards on the inside of the glass so it would read true from the pavement, and it took him most of the afternoon. She sat on the step outside with a flask and did not once look at the clock.

When he finished, she pressed her palm flat to the glass beside the lettering, as though checking it was dry. "My mother used to say it to me when I was small," she said, "whenever I wanted something I couldn't have. Imagine, she'd say, and then we'd make up the rest together."

Walter said nothing. He wiped the brush and capped the enamel. The next morning the bakery opened, and the first loaf sold was to a boy who stood on tiptoe, read the word aloud and asked what it was for. Walter told him it was for the rest of the story, and the boy went off down the front, reciting it under his breath all the way to the pier.