Solid black silhouette design of an owl with a heart-shaped cutout belly perched on a leafy branch, shown on a plain white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Owl with heart belly on a branch

Black and grey · Flash

A solid black silhouette of a round owl with wide eyes and small ear tufts, perched on a slender branch with leaves extending to the right. The owl's belly has a white heart-shaped cutout, and the design uses flat fills with no shading or fine linework. The image is in black and white on a plain white background, centred and with no added text.

Owl Heart Branch Leaves Silhouette

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift at Harrow Court has been broken since March, so you take the stairs with the shopping bags cutting into your fingers, counting landings the way your nan counted beads. On the ninth floor the window at the bend is propped open with a paint tin, and the cold comes in smelling of wet ash and diesel. Someone has left a tea light burning on the sill beside a cracked saucer of cold chips.

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Outside, the old sycamore the council swore it would fell in the spring has pushed a new limb towards the flats, and on it sits the owl. Everybody on the estate has an opinion about it. Mrs Achebe at the corner says it has been there since her husband died. Dev from fourteen says it only comes out when the bins are full. You have never decided which of them is talking rubbish. It is round as a loaf and it regards you with the same flat, unbothered patience as the night man at the Co-op who never asks for ID.

Tonight it has turned its back to the glass and faces the stairwell, as if it has been waiting for someone to come up. The branch dips under its weight. The leaves tap the pane like fingernails on a table, and the little white heart on its chest catches the light from the stairwell bulb.

You set the tea light on the sill beside the saucer and say, quietly, that you are not going to pick up anybody's chips. The owl shuffles one step along the branch. By morning the saucer is empty, the candle is out, and a single sycamore leaf lies on the paint, black as a cutout against the white.