Small fine line cherry blossom tattoo with soft pink petals and purple stamens on the inner upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cherry blossom on the upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A single five-petalled cherry blossom flower sits on the upper arm, drawn with delicate fine black outlines and a visible centre of stamens. The petals are filled with soft, watery pink and the centre is picked out in purple. The flower is small and placed off-centre against plain pale skin and a plain light background.

Fine line Botanical Upper arm Cherry blossom Flower Petal Stamen Blossom

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hall still smelled of floor polish and boiled cabbage, which Marian decided was a kindness. Someone had pinned a photocopied plan of the old playground to the noticeboard, and there in the corner, drawn as a neat pink cloud with a ring around it, was the cherry tree. Mr Hollis had written NO CLIMBING beside it in capitals, underlined twice, as though the tree might be tempted.

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Janine found her by the urn. "You still owe me a dictionary," she said, and pressed a fat Roget's into Marian's hands, its spine cracked soft. Between the pages for "transient" and "fragile" lay a flower the colour of a fingernail, petals gone thin as tissue, stamens a fine brown scribble. They had pressed it the April they were eleven, the week the wind stripped the tree in a single afternoon and the caretaker swept the petals into bin bags by the bike shed. Each of them had been meant to keep half.

"I never got mine," Marian said. She had lost hers in a house move, in a box marked BOOKS MISC that turned out to hold only tins. Janine shrugged and said she had always assumed it was in a bin somewhere, and that she had kept this one out of spite. They carried the dictionary to the window. Outside, the car park lay under sodium light, and the square of tarmac where the tree had stood was marked in white paint as two disabled bays and a space for a van.

Marian lifted the flower by its edge. It held its shape. For a moment the hall noise dropped away and she could almost smell the wet grass of that spring morning, the bell going, Mr Hollis shouting about climbing. She closed the book gently. "Which of us was supposed to keep the other one honest?" she asked. Janine laughed and said neither of them had ever been any good at keeping anything, least of all promises made in April.