Portrait of a man in a floral shirt on a forearm
Realism · Forearm · Colour · Photo
A realistic portrait of a man with swept-back hair fills the upper part of the forearm, rendered with soft pink and skin-toned shading and dark definition along the features. Below the face, a floral shirt is drawn in orange, pink and green with bold outlines, and a line of script runs along the lower left. The composition is tightly framed on the arm, with the portrait as the focal point.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The reunion was held in the old Methodist hall at Wrenfield, the year the school roof finally came down. Nobody had brought a name badge that worked, so they wore their old nicknames on card and squinted at each other over the urn. Marjorie Pell found the shirt first, folded over the back of a chair in the coat room, orange and pink flowers on a green ground, the sort of thing a boy would only wear to be looked at.
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Nobody claimed it. By the second hour it had been seen on three different men, and each swore it was not his. Ada Lusk, who had sat behind the owner of nothing in particular for five years of Latin, said that he had once written a note on the back of his hand that read come for a walk, and that he never finished a sentence he started at the bus stop. She had kept the note. It was in her purse, soft as a biscuit.
At half past nine the caretaker switched off the lights and the hall went blue with the glow from the car park. Marjorie walked out alone, following the path the older boys had worn across the playing field to the reservoir. The shirt was over her arm. At the water's edge she found a bench with one name cut into it and a second name cut underneath, and she sat there until the cold came through her coat.
When she got home there was a letter from the caretaker saying the shirt had been left on purpose, folded inside a hymn book, with a pencilled line beneath the hymn number: you were always the one who said yes. She hung it on the back of the kitchen door and did not wear it. She kept the walk for herself instead, every Sunday, down to the water and back.
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