Colour fine line tattoo of a red rose under a stained glass style dome on the inner forearm, with green leaves and a black outline.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rose under a glass dome on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A red rose with pink shading and green leaves and stem sits inside a dome shaped glass case with a small knob on top and a flat base. The design is outlined in thin black linework, with the glass panes divided by dark lines and the glass areas left unshaded. The rose and leaves use soft colour fills, set against the pale skin of the forearm on a knitted fabric background.

Fine line Forearm Rose Leaves Stem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift in Harrow Court had been broken since the Tuesday, so the boy carried Mrs Okafor's shopping up fourteen flights himself, two bags to a hand, stopping on each landing to let the ache settle in his arms. Her door was already open when he reached the top. She always heard him coming, and she never once asked him to hurry.

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On the sill of her front room sat a glass bell like the ones in the museum on the hill, and under it a single red rose that had not dropped a petal in all the years he had been bringing her bread. The glass was cut into panes, each edged in dark lead, so the light came through in strips and lay across the carpet like a chapel floor. Her husband had made it, she said, before the flats went up, out of coloured glass and copper wire, and he had promised it would outlast the building. She said this the way other people mention the weather.

The letter came in March. Harrow Court was coming down in the autumn, and the council wanted the flats empty by June. Mrs Okafor read it twice, folded it into her cardigan pocket, and asked the boy to lift the bell down. Under the glass the rose was cool to the touch and lighter than it looked, and its stem bent the way only wire can bend. He carried it down fourteen flights with his arms wrapped around the dome, and at the bottom the sun came through the open doors and turned every pane to gold.

She set it on the bench outside the shop on Mill Lane, where the old concrete from the estate was still piled in the car park, and she folded her hands in her lap. 'Now the light can get in,' she said. 'He always wanted the view.'