Black line icon sheet on a light background showing twelve simple designs, including a dollar sign, crown, heart, flame, moon, compass and paper plane, each with a capitalised caption.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Line icon sheet with twelve labelled designs

Black and grey · Flash

A grid of twelve simple black line icons arranged in four rows of three, each with a short capitalised caption beneath it. The designs include a dollar sign, a crown, a outline figure, a folded map, a solid heart, a flame, a crescent moon with stars, a cloud, a compass, an aeroplane, a dashed square and a paper aeroplane. The outlines are uniform in weight, with the heart as the only solid fill, and the composition is evenly spaced on a plain off-white background.

Money Crown Heart Map Flame Moon Star Cloud Compass Aeroplane Icon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lost property box came in on the Tuesday ferry with a rust mark on one corner and nothing inside but a single sheet of printed paper, folded twice, its edges gone soft as cloth. Morag Ferrie laid it flat on the counter between the umbrellas and a child's wellington and read the captions aloud to nobody, the way she read everything. MONEY. SHE'S KINDA HOT. CASTAWAY. INVISIBLE. There were twelve small black drawings, a crown, a folded map, a flame, and not one of them, she was fairly sure, had been lost on purpose.

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The man came for it on the last flight, in a damp anorak, and would not give his name. He said he had left it on the bench by the gate the summer his brother's plane went down past the headland. He did not want the box or the umbrellas. He wanted the paper. Morag told him the rules were the rules, that he would need to describe the item, and he tapped the bottom row without looking, the dashed square that meant nothing at all, and said, "That one. I was invisible for a while after. Mostly to myself." She asked him to say it again, plainly, so she could write it down, and he did, and she wrote INVISIBLE in the ledger and then could not think of a reason to refuse him.

He left with the sheet tucked inside his coat. Morag stood at the window and watched the aeroplane taxi to the end of the strip, its engine note climbing over the grass. Then she sent the empty box back down to the ferry office, found a spare sheet of the timetable, and folded it into a paper aeroplane with the sharp nose her father had taught her, the way you fold a thing you intend to keep moving.

She threw it out of the window. The wind caught it over the fence, turned it once above the windsock, and set it down in the sea-grass where nobody would look until the spring. She wrote the time in the ledger under UNCLAIMED, and beside it, in small capitals, FLY AWAY.