Black lettering reading Sisters, looped inside a heart outline and set on the ankle, with a small dot above the i.

Sisters script within a heart on an ankle

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A single black tattoo shows the word Sisters in flowing script, with the S extended into a looping heart outline that wraps around the word. The linework is solid black with smooth, even strokes and no shading, and a small dot sits above the i. The tattoo is centred on the lower leg just above the ankle against a plain skin tone and a pale background.

Lettering Ankle Sister Heart Script Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ferry from Cullen Harbour only runs twice a week in February, so you have learned to read the tide tables the way other people read the post. Mairead is already at the rail when the boat noses into the slip, her coat buttoned one hole out, a paper bag of their mother's shortbread crushed against her chest. She does not wave. She never waved as a girl either. You were the one who flapped your arms like a signalman, and she pretended not to see you until you were close enough to hear her sigh.

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The quarrel began with the cottage on Inish Beag and a solicitor's letter in April, and it has sat between you ever since like a stone in a boot. You walk the old sheep track to the western strand without saying much. The wind pushes at your backs. Below the cliff, the rocks have split a little bay into the shape of a heart, with a curl of wrack along its lower edge where the sea has been sorting the shingle for longer than either of you has been alive.

You sit on the flat stone you used to call the altar, sharing the shortbread, and she finally pulls out the penknife you lost in 1994. Three sets of initials are still scratched into the underside of the lintel back on the island, and she has brought the blade to add a fourth. You take it from her. Your hands are steadier than hers, which surprises you both. Neither of you says sorry. You carve a small heart beside the letters instead, and she laughs for the first time all day.

By the time the tide turns, the water has crept into the bay and softened the outline of the rocks until the heart is only a rumour. You stay where you are, cold water lapping at your ankles, the penknife warm between you, and neither of you moves to climb.