Black script lettering reading Break this One Bitch arcs above and below a red brick-patterned heart tattoo on a man's chest.

Script and brick heart on chest

Lettering · Chest · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a chest with a tattoo of a red heart filled with brickwork, framed by black script lettering that reads Break this One Bitch. The linework is clean and bold, with the heart shaded in red and the rest of the photograph in greyscale. The hands pulling the shirt open frame the tattoo at the centre of the composition.

Lettering Chest Heart Script text Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on the Carlow Street site believed Maggie Doyle could lay a heart into a garden wall, least of all her uncle Tom, who had dropped her name off his own list the morning she turned up with a tin of red mortar and a bet. The bet was simple. If she could put a heart in the bond without a single course going out of true, the job was hers. If not, she carried hods until Christmas.

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She worked the heart at the centre of the wall, one brick at a time, pressing each one hard and murmuring the same word under her breath: hold. Tom watched from the scaffold with a flask he never opened. By four o'clock the heart stood proud of the grey brickwork, the size of a dinner plate, and the lads came down off the roof to look at it, scratching their caps and saying nothing useful.

Then Tom climbed down, pulled out one brick with his bare hands, and reached into the gap. Behind it sat a second heart, older than the terrace, scratched into the mortar by someone long dead, with a line beneath it that said break this one. Maggie laughed until she had to sit on an upturned hod. Tom did not laugh. He told her the heart had never been meant to be broken, only tested, and that a wall kept its promises longer than the men who built it.

He slid the brick home, tapped it level with the heel of his hand, and went down the ladder without another word, leaving Maggie to read the old scratch in the mortar until the light went.