Black script lettering reading although broken, my heart still beats, running across the upper chest near the shoulder, with a silver chain necklace.

Script quote along the collarbone

Lettering · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a single line of cursive script tattooed across the upper chest, running diagonally from near the collarbone towards the shoulder. The lettering is in black ink with thin, even strokes and a looped flourish on the opening capital. The skin is pale and the image is lit by bright natural light from the upper right, with a silver chain necklace crossing the left side of the frame.

Lettering Fine line Shoulder Script Quote Lettering Necklace

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Don't you look at me like that, Albert, I'm coming to the good part. Mrs Hollis kept the top floor of the Marine Arms the summer the Lily May went out past the groyne and never came back. The lifeboat men found her hull on the Thursday and nothing else, and Mrs Hollis would not have the word drowned said at her breakfast tables. Guests were allowed to say missing. Missing could be cleared up with a lamp and a bit of patience.

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Ambrose Vane had come to lodge that August with a sign-writer's case and a cough. He painted the names on the council's carriage doors and could make a capital letter look like a bird had let it go. One wet evening she asked him to put down a sentence for her in his best hand, something she could not say across the cruet without her voice giving way. He took three nights over it on the back of a spent tide table. Every draft began with a word that sounded like an excuse, so in the end she told him to write only what was true and let the two halves stand on their own.

She took that tide table to a parlour in Cromer on the bus. A young woman with ink on her wrists copied his looped capital line for line, the flourish on the opening letter curling back like a wave deciding against the shore. It stung less than Mrs Hollis expected, and she said that was the sea's doing, since the sea had taught her everything she knew about being stung and carrying on.

The Marine Arms still takes bookings, and the tide table is pinned above the kettle, its ink gone the colour of weak tea. You asked me last week why she never took it down. I told you the sea goes out every day and comes back regardless, and that is the whole of the sentence. She has never needed a second line.