Fine line black script tattoo reading don't let your fears win along the inner upper arm.

Script quote on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A thin black script quote, reading don't let your fears win, runs across the inner arm in a slanted handwritten style. The linework is fine and even, with no shading, and the ink appears dark grey to black against the skin. A soft, blurred background of blue and grey tones and a person in dark clothing keeps the focus on the arm.

Fine line Lettering Upper arm Quote Text Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The band had gone on at a quarter past nine and Ivy Parr still hadn't crossed the sprung floor. She stood by the cloakroom hatch with her gloves balled in one fist, the paper folded inside them. Maureen had pressed it into her hand at the bus stop that afternoon, written in pencil on the back of a dance card, the letters leaning forward as if they were in a hurry: don't let your fears win. Maureen had never once finished a sentence without a laugh at the end of it, so Ivy had assumed it was a joke until she read it twice.

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Across the room the lights were low and the chalk marks on the boards had been trodden to grey. Stan Bellamy, who drove the number nine and had asked her for the foxtrot three Saturdays running, was pretending not to look at her from beside the urn. She could hear the saxophone climbing up through the bass line, the way it did before the big chorus, and her heels were already tapping against the lino without her permission.

When she finally reached him he didn't say anything clever. He held out his hand, palm up, and waited, and she saw that his cuffs were frayed where he'd turned them back for the evening. "You'll tread on me," he said. "Probably," she said, and took the hand anyway.

Later, when her feet ached and the caretaker had started stacking chairs, she went back to the cloakroom for her coat. The gloves lay on the radiator where she'd dropped them, the folded card still inside one of them, and she smoothed it flat under the bare bulb. The pencil had smudged a little where her thumb had been. She read the line once more and tucked it into her handbag, next to the bus fare, and went out into the cold with the music still going in her ears.