Fine line black script tattoo reading I follow the rabbit across the outer upper thigh of a person in a white top and shorts.

Script quote along a thigh

Fine line · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A close crop shows a single line of cursive script tattooed horizontally across the upper thigh, reading I follow the rabbit. The linework is thin and even, rendered in solid black ink with no shading. The soft, warm-toned photograph shows a hand resting on the thigh and a white top and shorts, with the face outside the frame.

Fine line Lettering Thigh Script Quote Rabbit Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ruth had been on the cardiac ward since ten, and by three the corridor lights had started to hum at her. The buzzer on her belt went off for the third time in twenty minutes. It was Mr Okafor's call from bay four, and when she got there he was sitting up with his slippers on the wrong feet, pointing at the lift doors.

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"He's gone down to see the rabbit," he said. "The one in the waistcoat. He said he'd be back before the tea trolley."

Ruth knew there was no rabbit. There was only Danny from the porters, who had a habit of humming into the lift and leaving his trolley blocking the fire doors. She checked the chart, pressed the bell for the night sister, and followed the squeak of wet rubber down to the basement corridor, past the linen chute and the locked mortuary doors. Halfway along, a single white slipper lay on the lino, as if someone had stepped out of it mid-stride.

She found Danny in the boiler room, crouched beside an upturned laundry basket with a child's crayon drawing taped to the lid. A lop-eared rabbit had come in that evening with a girl from the children's ward, and it had got out while the nurses were changing sheets. Danny had been talking to it in a low voice for ten minutes, offering it a slice of cucumber from the staff fridge. "It keeps going where it wants," he said. "Like it knows the way."

Ruth took the slipper back up to bay four, and Mr Okafor put it on without a word, as though he had always known where it would turn up. Later, when the trolleys had rattled past and the windows had gone from black to grey, the rabbit sat on the windowsill in its basket, nose twitching at the light, looking as though it had never once been lost.