Two small grey crown tattoos on the backs of clasped hands, one wrist wearing a gold watch, in a fine line style.

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Matching small crown tattoos on two hands

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are clasped together, each with a small crown tattoo on the back of the hand. The crowns are drawn in fine, delicate grey linework with light shading, and they sit close to the knuckles. The soft grey fabric beneath the hands and the gold watch on the left wrist form the background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You spot her by the trestle table in the function room above the Co-op in Hebden Bridge, the one where the sausage rolls have gone cold and the name badges still say Year Eleven. She has the same way of standing with her weight on one hip, as if the room owes her money. You don't say hello. You hold out your hand, palm down, and wait.

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Back in the bike shed in 1999 the two of you ran a game of kings and queens that nobody else was allowed to join. Whoever lost the round of noughts and crosses had to kneel while the winner drew a crown on the back of their hand with a blue biro that never quite worked. The ink was gone by Monday, scrubbed off in the cloakroom sinks, and Mrs Akers never once asked where the smudges came from.

Tonight she takes your hand the way she used to, quick and businesslike, and turns it over. The crown there is the one she drew herself on stencil paper, a little lopsided on one side, shaded so finely you have to tilt it under the strip light to see it. Yours is the same, with the same crook in the left point. She says she went into a shop on the market and asked for it small enough to hide inside a handshake, and you tell her you did exactly the same thing, the same week, without knowing.

The DJ starts playing the song from the leavers' disco, the one neither of you has heard since. She doesn't ask. You stand, still holding on, and she leads you out past the cold sausage rolls with two small crowns pressed palm to palm, and nobody in the room notices a thing.

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