Flash sheet of gold and silver foil temporary tattoo designs, including icosahedrons, arrows, a sunburst and lettering, with no body placement shown.

Metallic geometric flash sheet with lettering

Geometric · Mixed · Flash

A white sheet of metallic gold and silver foil designs featuring icosahedron shapes, arrow motifs, a sunburst and vertical borders of repeating geometric units. Lettering in outlined and solid capitals reads ODESZA, IT'S ONLY WATER, IT'S ONLY FIRE, IT'S ONLY LOVE, YOU COULD BE ALL WE NEED and MEMORIES THAT YOU CALL. The designs are arranged in an even grid with clean linework and no shading.

Geometric Lettering Arrow Sunburst Geometric shape Lettering Water Fire Love

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The twenty-sider rolled off the fourteenth-floor landing and kept going, bouncing down the concrete stairs as if it had somewhere better to be. Dev caught it on the ninth floor, held it up under the strip light and announced it had come up a six. I'd seen the top face on its way past me and it was a nineteen, but nobody argues with Dev when he's holding the dice and the lift is out again.

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We played every Thursday on the bench by the bin store, the same four of us, rolling for favours. A working lift. A replaced bulb. The last of the Ribena from Mrs Okafor's cupboard. The die was older than any of us. Its corners had worn smooth from years in a coat pocket, and the gold flecks in its faces had mostly gone, so you had to tilt it to see which number was winning. Dad said the man who first owned it had sold it to pay the gas bill, and the gas had come back on anyway, which was the sort of story the block told about itself.

In March the letter came through every door at once. The block was coming down. We would be rehoused across the ring road in flats with numbers instead of names. Nobody rolled that Thursday. We sat with the die between us on the cold slats while the sodium lights buzzed on, and the hoarding round the car park caught the streetlight in a long gold smear.

Dev finally pushed it towards me. "You roll. You always get the big number." I rolled. It spun across the bench, clattered off the bin lid and came to rest on twenty, face up, clean and bright as the day Dad first bet on it. Dev laughed until he had to sit down. I took the die home to a flat on the far side of the ring road, and it sits on my windowsill now, facing the old block, where I can still see the lights come on floor by floor.