Colour tattoo of a robin perched above a red heart and pink flowers with green leaves, on the outer thigh.

Robin, heart and flowers on a thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A robin perches on a small sprig of green leaves, with a red heart and a cluster of pink blossoms at its base. Black outlines define the bird and the leaves, while the robin's breast is shaded in orange and its back in soft grey. The tattoo sits on the outer thigh against plain skin, with the design centred and the leaves reaching up to the right.

Neo-trad Thigh Bird Heart Flower Blossom Leaves Branch

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on Ward 9 believed me about the robin. It came to the outside sill of the sluice room at ten to four every night that February and sat on the frame with its chest puffed out, like a man about to make a speech. Dr Aziz said it was drawn in by the light from the car park. Mrs Okafor in bed six said it was her late husband, which is the sort of thing she said at four in the morning, and I didn't argue with her.

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I started leaving crumbs on the sill from my tea break, a corner of digestive folded into a paper napkin. Bert, the night porter, thought I was daft. He'd come round the corner pushing a trolley of linen and stop to watch the bird eat, and he'd say nothing at all, which from Bert was practically a sermon.

The night Mr Whitlow's heart stopped, we worked on him for forty minutes. When we finally called it, I went to the sluice room because I couldn't stand in that corridor with everyone's faces. The robin was there. It hopped along the sill, looked at me sideways and sang one short run of notes, as if it had been waiting for me to finish. I stood there until the sky went grey over the multi-storey car park. I didn't feel better, exactly, but I felt counted.

At handover I told Bert about it. He nodded and pushed his trolley on. The next night there was a small heap of crumbs on the sill before I'd even unwrapped my tea, and I knew the bird hadn't put them there.