Black and grey fine line tattoo on the top of a foot, showing the script words I'll remember for you beside a simple cartoon animal.

Script phrase and cartoon animal on top of a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a tattoo on the top of a foot, with the script words "I'll remember for you" arching across the upper part and below the drawing. Between the lettering sits a simple cartoon animal drawn in thin, even black linework with little shading. The image is greyscale, and the foot fills most of the frame against a blurred floor and a flip-flop at the edge.

Fine line Lettering Other Lettering Phrase Foot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

By the last week of August the Discovery trees were dropping their apples in soft thuds, and Ruth stood on the orchard ladder with a bucket hooked over one wrist, sorting the bruised windfalls from the sound fruit. Her brother Colin stood below with the notebook, telling her she was doing it wrong. Their father had planted the rows the year Colin was born, and Colin could still name every tree by its crooked branch or its split bark, the way other people recited the football results.

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Ruth had always been the forgetful one. She lost keys, library books and the names of landlords, and Colin kept a tally of everything she'd mislaid in the back of that same notebook. Their mother used to say that elephants never forget. When Ruth was seven she had drawn one on the back of a seed packet, its trunk curling round the words she'd made up for her brother: I'll remember for you. He had kept the packet in his wallet ever since, soft as cloth at the folds.

That autumn it was Colin who began to slip. He called the dog by the name of a dog dead for twenty years, and one morning he stood in the lane with his coat half on, asking where the orchard had gone. Ruth found the notebook on the kitchen table, his neat columns of tree names stopping halfway down a page, the last entry written in a looping hand she didn't recognise.

She took it out to the rows at dusk and read the names aloud, one tree at a time, while Colin walked beside her with his hands in his pockets. When she reached the crooked one at the end of the third row, he stopped and looked up into its branches as though someone had called him from the house. "That's the one Dad propped up with a fence post," he said. Ruth wrote the name down in her own unsteady hand and kept walking.