Two people's upper arms touch, each with a small colour cartoon tattoo on the upper arm, one figure in a blue beanie and one in a red hat, both with green puffs between them.

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Upper arm · Colour · Photo

Two people sit with their upper arms pressed together, each showing a small cartoon tattoo. The figure on the left wears a blue beanie and blows a green puff towards the figure on the right, who wears a red hat and is shown in a purple top. The linework is simple and outlined, with flat colour fills in red, blue, green and purple on light skin.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cider press had been clanking since breakfast, and you were already losing the argument about who should climb the Bramley tree. Marnie, in her red woolly hat, said it was your turn. You said it had been your turn since June, which was only true if you counted the June you invented on the spot. Behind the shed the wasps had found the windfalls and were staggering about like old men after a wedding.

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She had a way of puffing her cheeks when she was about to win, a round lip and a narrowed squint that you had learnt to read the way sailors read clouds. So you tugged your blue beanie down over your ears, which made no sense in August but felt like armour, and you let go the thing you had been saving since morning: a green cloud of sour pear-drop breath, the sweet you had sucked down to a splinter, flung across the grass in a spiteful sneeze.

Marnie did not flinch. She met your puff with one of her own, and the two greens tangled above the rows of trees like wool caught on a fence. The wasps gave up entirely. The dog from the farmhouse came trotting over to see what the fuss was, sniffed the air, and sneezed twice on principle.

When the cloud thinned you both looked up at the same moment, and there on the low branch hung one last apple, the only one the wind had missed. You climbed for it. She held the trunk. You bit, she bit, and neither of you would admit afterwards which bite had been the bigger.

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