Black serif lettering on the top of a foot reads She has no idea. The effect she can have., beside cuffed jeans and black glitter flats.

Quote tattoo on the top of a foot

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A two-line quote is written in black serif lettering across the top of a bare foot, just above the ankle. The text is crisp and solid black with no shading, set against pale skin. The foot rests on a dark wooden floor, with cuffed blue jeans above and black glittery ballet flats beside it.

Lettering Other Quote Text Foot Jeans

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ovens were already ticking when I pulled the first trays at half four, and Tomasz was late again, which meant I had the rye to shape on my own. Outside, the lamp over the Co-op had gone off for the night and the harbour smelt of diesel and wet rope. I had written the day's order on the back of a flour sack in pencil, the way my mother did, and I was halfway down the list when the bell over the door went.

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It was Marianne from the flat above the chandlers, her long coat with the sleeves pushed up, asking for two currant buns and a small tin loaf. She talked the way people talk at that hour, too quickly, about a man who had messaged her at midnight with only the word "bread?" and then nothing since. I sliced the loaf and wrapped it in brown paper and said nothing about the man, because I had sold her bread every morning for six years and she had never once asked what I thought.

Then she laughed at something on her phone and turned the screen towards me. It was a line some clever woman had written about a girl at a dance: "She has no idea. The effect she can have." Her sister had sent it to her as a joke, Marianne said, and she was not sure whether it was meant as a warning or a compliment. I read it twice with flour on my thumbs and thought how little I had ever wanted to be the one who knew nothing.

When the light came up grey over the breakwater, I found the flour sack under the proving cloths and read my pencilled list again. Beneath the bread, in smaller letters I did not remember writing, was that sentence. I left it there. Tomasz came in at six, smelling of cigarettes, and asked why I looked so pleased with myself, and I told him it was the rye.