Two matching stick figure girls singing into microphones, one in a green dress and one in a purple polka dot dress, tattooed on the tops of two feet in fine line style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching stick figure singers on feet

Fine line · Other · Mixed · Photo

Two small stick figure girls sit on the tops of a pair of feet, each holding a microphone up near her face as if singing. The thin black outlines are simple and hand-drawn in feel, with the figures filled in with flat green and purple dresses, touches of red on the cheeks and orange hair. The two designs are placed side by side on separate feet, with the toes and painted toenails visible at the bottom of the frame.

Fine line Other Stick figure Girl Microphone Dress Feet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hose was still running when Rosie climbed onto the water butt and announced that we would be on the radio by Friday. I told her the radio did not want two girls from Harehills who could not hold a note past the second line of anything. She held up a coat hanger bent into a loop, with one of her dad's grey socks pulled over the top, and sang the opening line of the only song we both knew all the words to, loud enough that Mr Okafor's cat left the top of the wall.

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All that summer we practised between the runner beans and her mum's washing line, where the sheets snapped in the wind and never asked us to stop. She wore her purple frock with the white spots and I wore the green one with the stripes. We sang the chorus so often the street knew it before we did. Rosie kept her arm high, because she said a singer should always look like she is reaching for something just out of range.

The talent contest at St Luke's hall was a disaster. The sock slid off the hanger halfway through the second verse and my voice cracked on a note I had been sure of all week. Rosie did not stop. She pointed the bare wire at the back row as though it were still working, and somewhere near the urns a woman in a yellow cardigan began to clap along, then a man with a walking stick, then the whole hall, until the chorus was sung by a room full of people who did not know the words at all.

We came third, which meant a tin of biscuits and a certificate, and that evening we sat on the back step with the hose dripping onto the path. Rosie pulled the sock off the hanger and hung it on the tap to dry. Neither of us said anything about the radio. We just sang the last line again to the beans, and I thought how small we would look from very high up, two stick girls with their arms raised, still reaching.