Close-up of a woman with gold grillz pointing at a small black outline tattoo on her finger, with a gold pendant and hoop earrings visible.

Small finger tattoo with gold grillz

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up of a woman's lower face and hand, with a pink-nailed index finger pointing at a small black outline tattoo on the finger. Partial black script is visible on the forearm near the wrist, though it is not legible. The image is mostly warm skin tones, with gold grillz, gold hoop earrings and a gold pendant on a ball chain against a black top.

Hand Forearm Finger tattoo Outline Script Pendant Necklace

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The gold came in on Tuesdays, wrapped in tissue or in a sandwich bag, and Dennis Hale had learned to weigh it before he looked at it. This Tuesday's lot was a box of chains from a bloke in Ramsgate who swore they were his nan's. Under the loupe, most of the links turned out to be brass with a thin skin of colour, and Dennis said so, kindly, and the bloke swore again.

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Among them was a pendant nobody had asked for: a small gilt shrine with a saint inside, her face worn smooth where a thumb had rubbed it for years. Dennis turned it over. Someone had scratched a date on the back, 1994, and beneath it a tiny cross, drawn by a hand steadier than the rest of the box. He meant to offer twelve pounds for the lot. Instead he offered forty for the pendant alone, and the bloke, who had clearly expected to be laughed out of the shop, agreed before the sum was finished.

Dennis kept it in the window on a square of green velvet, where the light off the harbour wall came through the glass and made the saint look awake. All summer people stopped to peer at it, and most of them only wanted to know the price. He told them it was not for sale, which was a lie he had started telling himself as well.

In October he took the shrine out to clean it and found a second line under the cross, so faint he had missed it in the first week. Two letters, a little crooked. He never learned whose initials they were, and he could have sold the thing to anyone who asked. He hung it back in the window anyway, facing the street, where the sea light could reach it.