Two small black outline diamond tattoos, one on the back of each hand, in a fine line style.

Matching diamond tattoos on two hands

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands rest together against a dark background, each showing a small diamond drawn in black outline. The left diamond sits on the back of the hand near the knuckles and shows a few internal facet lines, while the right diamond is a simpler outline on the back of the other hand. The ink is crisp and even, and the warm, soft lighting keeps the focus on the two designs.

Fine line Hand Diamond Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You stand at the top of the tip road with Ffion, wind pushing grit into your collars, and watch the last cage come up empty. Everyone in Gorsefach says the pit is finished, that the seam gave out the year the baths were shut. Ffion says otherwise, and she has never once been wrong about a stone.

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Her find is a pebble the size of a pea, pale and cold, dug from the spoil heap where the men once threw whatever they could not sell. She holds it up under the sodium lamp by the lamp hut and turns it until its edges catch fire. "Look," she says, and you look, and for a moment the whole black valley is full of tiny sparks, as if someone had scattered the sky across the tips.

On Saturday you take it on the bus to Mr Price at the pawn counter in Llanelli, folded in a handkerchief in your coat pocket the whole way. He lifts his loupe, peers, and then sets the stone down very gently, the way you would set down a sleeping bird. "Where did you get this?" "Off the tip." He laughs, then stops when he sees your face. He offers no money. Instead he takes a receipt from the drawer and draws it for you in biro, the outline sharp and the facets pressed in with the blunt end of a pencil, because you need to know exactly what you have.

You copy it that night at the kitchen table, Ffion copying you, both of you ink-stained and laughing until your mother bangs on the wall. Twenty years on, the tip is grassed over and the pit wheel is a rust-coloured ring against the hill, but you can still draw the shape with your eyes shut, and so can she. Between you, the mountain never quite finishes closing.