Black script lettering reading Everyday for the rest of our lives, tattooed across two forearms placed side by side.

Matching quote tattoos on two wrists

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two inked forearms sit close together, showing a phrase written in cursive script in black ink. The text reads Everyday for the across the first arm and rest of our lives across the second, with the wording split between them. The lines are fine and even on smooth, light skin, and the photograph is shot straight on with soft lighting.

Lettering Forearm Script Quote Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lorry queue at Coquelles had not moved in an hour, and I had been counting gulls on the perimeter fence since four. Nessa sat beside me with her wrist propped on the dashboard, the ink still shiny beneath a sheet of cling film the artist had insisted on. 'Say it again,' she said. 'You know it by heart.' 'Everyday for the,' I said, and stopped, because the sentence only sounded right with the other half attached.

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The woman in the Margate studio had split the line on purpose, so the two halves only read as one when our wrists touched. I had argued about it for twenty minutes. 'Is everyday one word or two?' I'd asked, and she said nobody checks spelling on a wrist, which turned out to be the most accurate thing anyone said that whole summer. Nessa laughed through the first line while the needle went in, and I kept my eyes on the poster of koi above the sink.

At the booth the officer took our passports, flicked the pages, then leaned to the gap under the glass and squinted at our arms. 'Is that a message?' he asked. Nessa lifted her wrist. 'It's unfinished.' He read the first half aloud, slowly, then the second, and I watched his lips shape the join before he decided it was nothing. He stamped both passports and slid them back. 'Rest of your lives, then,' he said, and waved the lorry on as if it cost him nothing.

Past the barrier the road opened into a grey smear of motorway. Nessa reached across the gearstick and laid her wrist against mine, the two lines meeting in the dashboard light, and neither of us said anything clever. Somewhere behind us the fence and the gulls and the queue went on without us. It was the first time those words had made sense to anyone but us, and it was a stranger in a booth who had made them do it.