Black and grey realism style tattoo of praying hands with a small number 6 above them, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Praying hands with the number 6 on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo of two praying hands sits on a forearm, with a small number 6 drawn above them. The hands are built from shaded and stippled linework, with dark areas giving them strong contrast against the skin. The photograph is taken close up, with a white top and a checkered floor visible in the background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift in Harrowgate House stopped at six again, the doors sliding open onto the smell of frying onions and wet concrete. Ruth Okafor had a biro behind one ear and a laminated OUT OF ORDER sign in her coat pocket, the kind she had taped to the doors so often that the tape had gone yellow. She pressed the button with the dented 6 and felt it give, sticky and reluctant, like a tooth.

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Mr Lusk lived on six, in the flat with the blue door, and since his wife had gone into the hospice in March he had taken to standing in the lobby with his palms pressed together. Not praying, exactly. Ruth had asked him once, and he had said he was only holding the shape of something he used to carry. He nodded at her now without unfolding his hands. The engineer from the council, a young man called Dunmore with a clipboard and a lanyard, had come on Tuesday and said the cable was sound and the sensor was fine and it was the button, always the button. He had charged the council forty pounds for saying so.

Ruth worked the button loose with a bent paperclip while Mr Lusk watched. It clicked, finally, and the lift hummed down to the ground floor and came back up with its doors open and empty, as if it had only wanted to be asked properly.

She took the stairs after that, counting landings out of habit, and when she reached six she found Mr Lusk's blue door standing open. Two mugs were on the draining board, one already full, and a plate of biscuits sat beside the kettle with the packet torn neatly down the middle.

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