Black and grey fine line tattoos of a small flower and a key on the inner wrist and forearm, with a hand raised near the mouth and silver rings on the fingers.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small flower and key tattoos on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand is raised towards the face, showing small black tattoos on the inner wrist and forearm. They include a small outlined flower, a key and a larger dark shape with a loop at one end. The linework looks fine and the ink is black and grey, set against soft, dim lighting and dark hair in the background.

Fine line Forearm Flower Key Hand Ring Wrist

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The keys went on the ring by floor, not by flat number, because Mrs Okonedo said that was how her husband had done it, and nobody on the eleventh was going to argue with a dead man's system. I was carrying the ring in my coat pocket the afternoon the council man came up with his clipboard and told us the block was coming down in March. He wanted every key returned by Friday. I said I'd see to it, and I did, all except one.

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Flat 1408 had been empty since Eileen died in January. Her son never came for the furniture, so I went in with a torch to check the damp. The kitchen drawer stuck, and when I forced it I found a pressed primrose between two pages of an old gas bill, its yellow faded to the colour of weak tea. Underneath it was a note in pencil: for whoever has the key next, don't let them throw the flowers out. The brass Yale on the ring had a bent bow from years of someone turning it too hard. I had never once seen her use it.

I climbed the fourteen flights because the lift had been out since Tuesday, counting landings the way I used to when I was small and my mum worked nights. At the top I sat on her windowsill and looked down at the car park, where a van was already reversing into the space that would soon be rubble. The primrose was dry and light as paper when I lifted it.

I put it back in the drawer, under the bill, where she had left it. Then I locked the flat, slid the one remaining key under the door of the caretaker's office, and went down the stairs in the dark without needing the light.