Black and grey drawing of a heart breaking into fragments, with the words When it's over, I'll count back from ten, and you can listen to glass hearts shattering around it.

Shattering black heart with lyric text

Black and grey · Flash

A solid black heart breaks apart into scattered fragments that drift downwards, with a loose, textured edge suggesting shattered glass. Handwritten style lettering in black surrounds the heart, reading When it's over, I'll count back from ten, and you can listen to glass hearts shattering. The design is in black ink on a white background with no shading or colour.

Heart Glass Text Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The glassblowers of Veyl Harbour had a saying that a heart made of glass could be mended only by its maker, and the maker had been dead forty years. Mirelle knew this because she had heard it from every cart driver on the coast road, usually while they waited for her father to finish a bottle or a lamp. She did not believe it. She believed that glass only remembered the shape it had been given, and that if she pressed the broken pieces together in the furnace light, they would remember something else.

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She worked through the winter with the shutters closed. Her hands blistered and healed and blistered again. She gathered the shards from the cellar bins, the cracked goblets, the old church window her uncle had sold for scrap, and she laid them on the cold slab in the shape of a heart, and then she watched them slide apart as soon as she turned her back. Each morning there was a little less of the heart and a little more of a drift across the floor, as if the glass had decided to leave the shape behind.

In March the bell in the lighthouse rang out of season, and she understood what it meant before she reached the window. Her mother had told her, once, that the old glassmaker used to count backwards from ten before every firing, so the furnace would know when to be trusted. Mirelle stood at the slab and counted. At one she lifted the last fragment and let it fall. It did not break. It went on falling, slow as snow, and settled on the stone beside the others, and the room was so quiet she could hear every piece of it land.