Small black Chinese-style character tattoo on a forearm, with the hand resting on a car steering wheel, in a lettering style.

Small character tattoo on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close view of a forearm with a small black tattoo of two or three stacked characters, set against black leather upholstery and a steering wheel. The linework is thin and solid black with no visible shading. The image is mostly dark tones with warm skin highlights and a gold-coloured watch on the wrist.

Lettering Forearm Character Script Wristwatch

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The car came to Halina with its seat pushed back for a longer man and a parking ticket folded into the sun visor. Her cousin Piotr had driven it for the wedding hire firm until his knee gave out, and he handed her the keys in the car park behind the chip shop with the air of a man passing on a dog that bites.

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Nights were the worst of it. The coast road out of Skegness ran straight for eleven miles with nothing on either side but black fields and the odd pale sheep lifting its head into the headlights. She kept both hands on the leather rim at ten to two and talked to herself in the Polish she had not spoken since her grandmother's funeral, mostly to keep from counting the mile posts.

On the third Thursday a fare waved her down outside the Co-op. He was small, wore a railwayman's cap and gave an address in Chapel St Leonards that she had never heard of. Halfway there he tapped the silver badge at the centre of the wheel with one knuckle and asked whether it still worked the way it used to. She said she had no idea. He smiled as if she had given the right answer and said his wife had once driven a car exactly like this to the Lincoln fair and come home with a goat.

At the address the house was dark except for a porch lamp left burning. He paid her with a folded note and told her to keep the change, then stood on the pavement until she had turned the car around. In the mirror she watched him climb the step one careful stair at a time, and by the time she reached the sheep fields again she had stopped counting anything at all.