Small black fine-line tattoo of round glasses with a lightning bolt above them, on the ankle of a person wearing tie-dye socks.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Round glasses and lightning bolt on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of round-framed glasses with a lightning bolt above the bridge sits on the outer ankle of a light-skinned leg. The linework is thin and even, in solid black ink with no shading. The subject is set against tie-dye socks in green, pink, blue and yellow, on a wooden floor.

Fine line Ankle Glasses Lightning bolt

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crate had been stamped twice already, once in Lille and once in a village whose name Ines could not pronounce, and it still smelled of tar and wet cardboard. She slit the tape with her thumbnail. Under a fold of newspaper lay eleven pairs of tie-dye socks, each one knotted at the toe, and a pair of round spectacles wrapped in a handkerchief the colour of weak tea.

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"Declare the contents," said the man behind the glass, not looking up from his ledger. "Socks," said Ines. "Eleven pairs. And spectacles, one pair, with a bolt of lightning over the bridge." He wrote this down with the slow care of someone who had never once been surprised by paperwork. "Is the lightning dangerous?" "Only to the rain," she said. "Look through the left lens and it falls sideways."

He did not believe her, which was why she held the spectacles up to her own face and turned towards the window. The car park swam. Rain slanted across the lorries in long grey stitches, and the ledger on the counter tilted like a deck in a squall. Her grandmother had dyed those socks in a bath of onion skins and blue dye, and had always said the glasses were a joke between her and a boy who once mended them with sticking plaster and a prayer. Nobody had ever told her the joke would travel this far.

"Admitted," Ines said, and stamped the crate herself before he could object. She folded the spectacles into the pocket of her coat, pulled one of the socks over her cold fingers like a glove, and walked out into the sideways rain, leaving the man to squint at his ledger until the lines stopped moving.