Two small black fine line cross tattoos on the fingers of two hands held together, one on a finger of each hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cross tattoos on two fingers

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are held together, with a small black cross tattooed on the side of a finger on each hand. The crosses have thin, even linework with solid black ink and no shading. The photo is taken from above on a grey pavement, with silver rings and a bracelet visible and a light, slightly warm tone.

Fine line Hand Cross Finger Hand Ring

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The needle was their gran's darning needle, held over the gas ring until its tip went blue. Ruth had the bottle of Indian ink from the tackle box under the stairs of the Marine Hotel, where they had been sent to fetch the good tablecloths and had stayed to argue about the tide. 'Hold still,' she said. Mae had not moved since the kettle went cold, and she was not going to start now, not with the whole promenade gone grey beyond the window.

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A cross, Ruth said, was only two straight lines that agreed to meet in the middle. She pricked the side of Mae's first finger, then her own, and wiped each dot with a flannel that smelt of carbolic. The needle hissed a little, the way the sea did on the shingle when the wind turned. Mae kept her eyes on the gulls wheeling over the pier and counted the strokes aloud, one, two, the way their father had taught them to count the lighthouse flashes from the back step.

When the ink was done they pressed their hands together to dry, the way they had done as girls. Ruth's ring was their nan's, worn thin, and Mae's was a cheap band from the penny arcade that she had never taken off. The silver clinked against silver and they went quiet. 'Now we can never really be parted,' Mae said, and Ruth laughed so hard the ink smudged. 'You'll be parted on Thursday,' she said. 'You've got the ferry.'

Mae sailed on the Thursday boat with the cross still raw on her finger. Every evening after, she pressed that finger to the cold rail at the stern and watched the harbour lights come on one by one, and somewhere across the water Ruth was doing the same.