Fine line black tattoo of a heart intertwined with an infinity symbol on the ankle of a bare foot standing on a wooden floor.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Infinity heart on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a heart woven through an infinity symbol sits on the inside of the ankle of a bare foot. The linework is thin and uniform in black ink, with no visible shading, and the design is set against soft pale skin. The photograph is shot at foot level on a glossy wooden floor, with a blurred background and pink toenail polish visible.

Fine line Ankle Heart Infinity symbol

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cage bell rang twice at ten past six, which meant the men were coming up early, and you knew before you reached the gate that it was the wrong sort of early. Your hands were still wet from the washtub. The women of Cwm Tawel stood in a loose line along the wet wall with their shawls pulled tight, not speaking, while the winding wheel turned over the shaft like a clock nobody had remembered to wind.

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Idris had given you a length of tarred cord the summer you were sixteen, cut from a hauling rope that had been condemned. He tied one knot in it while you watched, a heart pulled through a loop that had no end, and told you a knot like that could only be undone by cutting, so you had better not lose him. You kept it in the drawer with the lamp wicks. Every morning since, you had rolled it between finger and thumb as though it might have loosened overnight.

When the first cage came up with only the deputy's lamp swinging in it, you did not move. You counted the lamps instead, one for each man, the way you counted stitches on a sock heel. At seven the deputy took off his cap. At eight the second cage ground into the light, and there was Idris, coal dust in the creases of his face, lifting his lamp to find you before he found anything else.

He did not say anything. He raised the lamp so you could see its handle, where a second length of tarred cord hung, knotted the same way as the one in your drawer, the heart still whole. He had carried it down every shift for four years. You took his hand, still warm and black, and pressed it against your own cord, and neither of you let go until the deputy had to ask them to move aside.