Fine line outline tattoo of two hands reaching towards each other on a forearm, shown in black and white.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Outlined hands on an arm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows two hands reaching towards each other, drawn as a single thin outline with no internal shading. The linework is even and dark grey-black against pale skin. The photograph is black and white, with the arm filling the frame diagonally and a small faint mark near the top edge.

Fine line Forearm Hand Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The men of Skerrin Cove drew their hands on the slate above the hearth before a long voyage, and the women kept the chalk lines fresh until the ships came home. Nobody could say who started it. Ada Penhallow had buried two brothers and a father that way, and she was not going to let the slate go grey for Joss, who had signed on the Marguerite for the Plate run in the autumn the mackerel failed.

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She traced his hand every Sunday with a stub of chalk she kept in her apron pocket. The outline came out a little different each time, because she never could hold still enough, and she told herself the sea would find its way home by the lines even if the lines wandered. Through the winter the slate filled with her small wobbling efforts, and the wind off the point rattled the shutters like someone wanting in.

The Marguerite came round the headland on a Tuesday in March, low in the water and with her spars half gone. Joss came up the shingle with his left hand wrapped in sailcloth. Two fingers had gone under a winch cable off the Azores, he said, and the doctor in Falmouth had taken them and not asked for thanks. He did not make a fuss. He held the bandaged hand out to her across the kitchen table, the way a man offers something he is not sure of.

Ada did not reach for the chalk. She took his good hand instead and pressed her palm flat against it, fingers to fingers, until the lines of them met and there was nothing left to trace. Later she went to the slate and rubbed out the old outlines with her sleeve, and left the space above the hearth bare, because there was no longer a gap for the sea to cross.