Four photos of matching small fine line tattoos on fingers, wrists, and feet, including a purple flower, a bee, two birds with a red heart, and a black arrow.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching small tattoos on hands and feet

Fine line · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A four-panel collage of pairs of people wearing matching small tattoos on their hands and feet. The designs include a purple flower on the side of a finger, a bee with a dotted flight trail across the top of a foot, two outlined birds with a red heart on the wrists, and a thin black arrow on the ankles. The linework is fine and clean with almost no shading, and colour appears only in the purple flower and the red heart.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marguerite,

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The bees came back to the orchard on the Tuesday, the same week the post van lost its wing mirror in the ditch by Hobb's gate. Your uncle says it is a sign, but he says that about most things. I have pinned the dotted route of the swarm on the back of the calendar, the way you used to draw your bee's flight from the hive to the clover, one little loop after another, until you ran out of paper and carried on across the tablecloth.

Mrs Penrose from the chapel asked after you. She had seen the photograph Clem put up in the shop window, the two of you with your hands held flat together and a violet on each middle finger no bigger than a pea. She said it looked like a pact. I told her it was only ink and a silly notion you had in Bristol, but I stood at the counter afterwards and remembered the day you came home with that flower and wouldn't let me see it until it had settled.

The birds at the bottom of the lane have started nesting in the gutter above the bakery again. Every morning two of them sit on the wire and squabble over crumbs, and I think of the little pair you and your sister carry on your wrists, facing the same way, so that when you press your palms together they look ready to lift off. Clem says the ones on the bakery roof are a different pair altogether, but I haven't the heart to tell her they're just as set on going somewhere.

Come home at the end of the month. The painted arrow on the hall door still points at the back step, the way you left it when you were nine, and the bee jar is on the sill where the light comes through. Bring your sister. I'll make the honey cake, and we can sit on the step and see which of you the bees settle on first.

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