Black lettering tattoo reading 'And so the lion fell in love with the lamb...' in a serif font on the inner wrist.

Quote on the inner wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a three-line quote in black serif lettering across the inner wrist, reading 'And so the lion fell in love with the lamb...'. The letters are solid black with clean edges and even weight, and the ellipsis trails off at the end of the final line. The skin tone is warm and the background is out of focus, with the wrist filling most of the frame.

Lettering Forearm Lion Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Pull your hoods up, the lot of you, and mind the drips off the awning, because this one takes longer than the rain. Dunmore Street market, eleven stalls and the cheese man's dog, and at the top corner a lion called Aurelio who sold brass hinges and never once in forty years had a kind word for anyone who walked past without buying.

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Across the gutter, under a sheet of blue tarpaulin, a lamb named Pim sold wool by the skein. She was small and loud about it. Every morning the lion came down to shout at the sky for stopping the trade, and every morning the lamb bleated back that the sky had every right, it was only water, and water was the only thing on Dunmore Street that never charged rent.

Then came the week the drains backed up and the rain would not let up for nine days. Pim's wool went grey at the edges, then sodden, then sour. The lion stood at his hinges watching the fleece slump, and he said nothing, which frightened the cheese man more than any roar. On the ninth morning he unbuckled his own long oilskin, the one his father had worn to sea, and walked across the gutter with it over his arm.

He hung it over her stall without a word. She looked at the coat, then at him, and said the thing nobody on that street had expected from a lamb. You are dripping on my good ledger. He did not move, and the rain kept falling. By the end of the month the two stalls shared one awning and one bad temper, and the cheese man swears he saw them argue over the price of a single hinge for a whole afternoon, and... Right, who wants a chestnut? The rest is for next Thursday, if the sky lets me.