Colour geometric tattoo of a row of rainbow hexagons with soft edges on an upper arm, below a yellow sleeve.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rainbow hexagon band on upper arm

Geometric · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A row of interlocking hexagons, each split into triangular facets, runs across the upper arm in a band. The shading moves through red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple, with soft, watercolour-like edges. The tattoo sits on bare skin just below a yellow sleeve, against a plain, softly lit background.

Geometric Upper arm Hexagon Triangle Rainbow Geometric shape Band

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had shut the Crook and Lantern road on the Tuesday, and by Thursday the guests had stopped asking when the plough would come. You are the one who knows the stove, the boiler and the cellar door that sticks in damp weather, so when Mrs Haddow's pane cracked you are the one who climbs the ladder with a pot of putty and a box of spare glass.

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The window is the old one above the stairs, a honeycomb of leaded panes, each hexagon cut across into little triangles of colour. Someone's great-grandfather ordered it from a glazier in Leeds the year the railway came, and nobody has ever agreed on which pane is which colour. Red slides into orange, orange into yellow, yellow into green, and the purple corner always looks as though someone has breathed on it. You lift the cracked piece out and hold it up to the grey light, and the hallway below turns faintly, as if someone has poured water across the floor.

Mrs Haddow calls up the stairs asking whether it will hold. You say it will hold until the thaw, which is what everyone says. You do not say the spare pane is the wrong blue, or that you matched it by squinting at a sample in the cellar at two in the morning with a torch in your teeth.

Down in the lounge the guests have dragged the chairs to the fire. When you climb down, the youngest, a boy with mittens tied to his coat, asks which colour is the new one. You tell him the one that is not quite right, and he holds it up to the window, turning it until the snow behind it goes orange, then green, then a blue nobody else can name, and he says that is the best one.