Two-panel photo of fine line black script on a side ribcage reading we loved with a love that was more than love, with a small butterfly beside the word love.

Script quote along the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A two-panel photograph of a person's side and ribs, with a handwritten script quote in black ink split across the two panels. A small butterfly outline sits beside the word love on the left panel. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the skin shows soft natural light against a pale background.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Quote Script Butterfly

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hall smelled of floor polish and last year's raffle prizes when Nell Carrow saw Bea Tolley come through the double doors, thirty years older and not one bit changed about the chin. They had shared a desk at Saint Brede's from the age of eight until the summer they were sixteen, when Bea's father took the family to Leeds and nobody wrote letters that were answered.

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They sat at the trestle table by the urn and talked about who had married whom, who had died, and whose husband still thought he could sing. Nobody asked the question they both wanted asked. A small brown butterfly came in off the car park through the open door and went round the paper chains twice before settling on the edge of the raffle table. Bea said her grandmother believed a butterfly in a room meant someone was keeping a promise. Nell said her grandmother believed the opposite, and they laughed like girls.

Then Bea took a folded page from her handbag, the blue exercise paper they used to pass under the desk, and Nell saw her own handwriting on it, the loops gone soft at the edges. She had written it the winter Bea left, the words about a love that was more than love, and had never posted it. Bea had kept it all this time. Nell could not say anything. She only put her hand flat on the table between them.

The butterfly lifted off the raffle table, crossed the hall above the heads of the Rotary men, and went out into the evening. Bea folded the page again along its old creases and left it beside Nell's cup, and neither of them went for the urn.