Fine line purple script reading let it be on the top of a woman's foot, with a denim jean cuff and red toenail polish visible.

Let it be script on the top of a foot

Fine line · Other · Colour · Photo

A bare foot rests on a dark surface, showing a small script tattoo reading let it be across the top of the foot. The lettering is thin, single-needle linework in a dark violet ink with soft, even edges. The denim cuff at the top left and red toenail polish frame the tattoo against a dark background.

Fine line Lettering Other Let it be Foot Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow came over the pass on the third night of Advent, and by morning the road to Thornmere was gone. Old Ada Renwick stood at the inn's back door with a shovel she had no intention of using, watching her son try to dig a path to the stable. "Leave it," she told him. "It will melt when it melts."

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Four travellers had come in out of the white that evening: a carter with a lame mule, two sisters bound for a funeral, and a boy who said nothing and kept his cap pulled low. Ada gave them the room above the kitchen, where the chimney kept the floor warm. The carter wanted to argue about the price of the mule's fodder. The sisters wanted to argue about who had the better claim to their late aunt's clock. Ada let them argue, poured more ale, and said nothing that would settle either matter, because a snowbound night was no place for settling things.

On the second evening the boy came down to the fire and asked her how she could bear to let the weather decide everything. Ada turned a chestnut in the ashes and said the road had decided for everyone, and that she had learned long ago that what cannot be changed is best left lying where it falls, like the snow on the sill. He thought about that for a long while. Then the sisters, who had been squabbling over the clock since supper, fell quiet without anyone asking them to.

By the thaw the sisters had agreed between themselves who would keep the clock, the carter had taken less for the fodder than he had asked, and the boy had gone off down the pass on foot with a loaf inside his coat. Ada swept the step and saw his tracks there, already softening at the edges. She did not follow them. She went back in, hung the kettle over the fire, and let the morning be whatever it was going to be.