Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Outlined clasped hands on the ribs
Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo
The tattoo is a single-line outline of two hands clasped together, with one hand resting over the other and the finger details drawn with short strokes. The linework is black and fairly even, with no shading or fill, so the design relies entirely on the contour. The tattoo sits on the side of the torso against pale skin, with another tattooed forearm visible at the top left and a white garment at the right edge.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
You learn the ferry timetable by heart the winter Maeve stops coming down to the slipway. The boat to Inishcarra runs twice a day when the weather allows, and most days it does not. You stand at the rail with your palm flat on the cold iron, counting gulls, waiting for the gap between the two headlands where the grey swell opens.
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Her brother Tomas works the winch on the quay and says she has gone across to the mainland for their mother's surgery. You don't believe him, or you don't want to. Nobody on Inishcarra tells you anything useful except the price of diesel and who is related to whom. So on a Thursday you walk the length of the harbour wall with a paper bag of pear drops, the way you used to when you were both nine and too proud to hold hands in front of the Pritchard boys.
On the last boat of the month she is there at the stern, paler and thinner, a canvas bag strapped across her chest. She doesn't say hello. She takes your hand and threads her fingers through yours, and you feel the old scar on her knuckle against your thumb. The crossing takes an hour and neither of you lets go, though the deckhand makes a joke about it and the sea spits spray over the rail.
When the island comes up low and grey, she lifts your hand and lays it over hers, the way you did as children to see who would pull away first. Neither of you does. Ahead, the slipway is already filling with people, and you realise you have forgotten how to stand in a crowd without her. Stay close, she says. We're nearly home.
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