Small black and grey shaded tattoo of ornate scissors on the side of a finger, in a realistic style.

Scissors tattoo on a finger

Realism · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a pair of scissors with ornate, scrolled handles sits on the side of a finger, pointing downward. The linework is fine and the shading is soft grey, giving the metal blades and handles some depth. The image is a close crop of a hand with pale pink nails, with the tattoo placed centrally and filling a small part of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Vera had the shears in her apron pocket when the band struck up the second waltz, and she could feel their weight against her hip like a held breath. They were her mother's pair, the scrolled handles worn smooth by thirty years of cutting tweed and other people's wedding silk. Nobody at the Carlton Palais knew that the curls on each side were meant to be lovers' knots. Her mother had told her so, then laughed and said it was only Victorian showing off.

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Downstairs the cloakroom was loud with girls pinning hems under the gaslight. A seam had split at the back of Joan Pickering's blue frock, and Joan was due on the floor with Frank from the post office in ten minutes. Vera knelt, snipped the loose thread close, tucked the raw edge under with two neat stitches, and refused the shilling Joan held out.

"You'll have me married off by Christmas, Vera," Joan said, but she was smiling, turning in front of the cracked mirror like a top.

When Vera climbed back up the stairs the floor was full and Frank was watching the door. He had been watching it for a month, and Joan had been pretending not to notice. Vera set the shears back in her pocket, went to the bar for a lemonade, and found herself standing beside him instead. "She dropped this on the stairs," she said, and handed him the pale pink ribbon from Joan's hair. He read the folded note tied to it and laughed out loud. The shears stayed cold against her hip, and she didn't have to cut anything else that night.

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