Small black italic 305 numerals tattooed on the side of a torso beneath an open white shirt, in a lettering style on the ribs.

Small black 305 numerals on the side torso

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of the numerals 305 sits on the side of a fair-skinned torso, partly covered by an open white shirt. The numerals are set in a bold italic, serif-style lettering with solid black ink and clean edges. The plain skin and white fabric leave the tattoo as the clear focus of a close, softly lit composition.

Lettering Ribs Numeral Number

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The key for locker 305 had sat in the lost property tin at Saltmarsh Junction since March, and on a wet Tuesday I finally went to claim it. The clerk, a girl with a silver stud in one eyebrow and a lanyard full of enamel badges, turned the key over twice before she believed it was ours to give.

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"It's my mum's," I said, which was half true. She had paid the locker up to the end of summer and then gone quiet, the way she did whenever the phone rang and she let it ring out. Inside the door it smelled of damp wool and the peppermints she kept in every coat pocket. There was a biscuit tin, a road atlas with the Dales traced in biro, and a single cream envelope with my name spelt wrong.

I read it standing up with my back to the girl. Inside was a ticket stub for the 305 bus from Saltmarsh to the coast, dated the week I was born, and a note in the same looping hand: You always wanted to see the sea from the top deck. Go on. She had written it as if she had only popped out for milk and would be back before the kettle boiled.

I put the stub in my wallet and asked the girl how much it would cost to keep the locker another year. She said it was already paid until September. I said that was fine, that was exactly the sort of thing my mother would do, and I locked it again and carried the key out into the rain as though it weighed more than it did.