Two hands resting together, each showing the same small black fine line Roman numeral tattoo across a finger.

Matching Roman numeral finger tattoos on two hands

Lettering · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands rest together on a light surface, with the same Roman numeral inscription XIV·II·MMXII in black ink across the middle finger of each hand. The lettering is crisp, thin and evenly spaced, with dot separators between the groups of numerals. The palette is black ink on skin with a soft, neutral background, and the close crop keeps the focus on the two matching tattoos.

Lettering Fine line Hand Roman numeral Numeral Lettering Hand Ring Bracelet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The relief boat was late again, so you sat at the kitchen table of Skerry Light with the logbook open at the fourteenth of February and a pen that kept skipping. The wind had been backing all afternoon. Outside, the lamp was already turning its slow count, one flash every ten seconds, and you knew Maggie on the mainland would be counting the same flashes from the bedroom window, because she had said so in the last letter that came out with the supply run.

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You wrote the date the way the Admiralty taught you, in Roman figures, because the old logs had always been kept that way and nobody had ever asked you to change it. XIV, II, MMXII. Then you put a dot between each group, the way you might put a full stop after a sentence you meant. Eleven years of entries, and that was the only line you had ever written in capitals on purpose.

Maggie had come out to the rock once, the summer before, in a borrowed oilskin, and had stood at the rail laughing at the gulls who refused to leave the gallery. She said the date was when she had decided, not when the vicar had written it down. You argued, mildly, that the vicar had the paperwork. She said paperwork was for people who needed telling.

At half past nine the radio crackled with the coastguard saying the boat was turning back for Hallow Sound. You didn't mind. You capped the pen, nudged the clockwork a notch, and listened for the one sound you trusted, an engine coming up the sound in the dark. You said the date again, out loud, the way you would give a ship its position. Then the light swept across the water, and you were still there to see it.