Close-up of a black script tattoo reading Love on the upper arm, with a white lace top in the background.

Love script tattoo on an upper arm

Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A black script word reading Love sits on the outer upper arm of a person wearing a white lace top. The lettering has looping, flowing strokes with a slightly heavier weight on the L and a thin tail curling under the word. The image is in black ink only, set against smooth, light skin and a soft, neutral background.

Lettering Upper arm Love Script Word Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody at the reunion recognised me until Marion Pike pinned her name badge to her cardigan and said, "You still hold a pen like a dowser, Mr Ashby." The school hall smelt of floor polish and warm sausage rolls, exactly as it had the summer the leavers signed each other's jumpers. I had taught those children handwriting for thirty-one years, the looping capitals and joined-up ends the new curriculum had quietly dropped, and I had assumed none of it had stuck.

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Marion had kept a page. She unfolded it from her handbag, soft as cloth from years of folding: a sheet of exercise paper with the word LOVE written across it nine times, the L fattened at the top and the last letter trailing into a curl that ran under the rest like a dropped ribbon. "You made us do it until our wrists ached," she said. "I hated you for a fortnight. Then I wrote a note to Daniel Frost using those loops, and he wrote back in the same hand, and that was that. Carol Mears never forgave either of us."

I asked where Daniel was. She tipped her head towards the far end of the hall, where a broad man in a grey suit was carrying two plastic cups of squash across the parquet with enormous care. He stopped to set one down in front of a woman I did not recognise, and I saw him glance back at Marion the way a man checks a stove he has already turned off.

Marion folded the page along its old creases. Where the curl ended, the paper had worn thin from being traced over so many times, a small pale hole no bigger than a pea. She pressed her thumb over it, the way you would hold a place in a book, and put the page back in her bag.