Four-panel photo of a small colourful heart chain tattoo on the inner wrist, shown being covered with foundation makeup.

Small heart tattoo covered with foundation

Forearm · Colour · Photo

The top panel shows a small tattoo of five stacked hearts in pink, purple, blue, teal and green, with solid fills and thin dark outlines, running vertically across the inner wrist. The lower three panels show foundation being applied with a flat brush, then blended with a fluffy brush until the tattoo is no longer visible. The photo is taken on a plain light background with even lighting.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Okonedo's pots of greasepaint had dried out again, so I was mixing cold cream and flesh powder on the lid of a biscuit tin when Dolores came into the wagon with her sleeve already rolled. The big top had been sold off for scrap the winter before, and what was left of the Harrowgate Brothers Circus was four lorries, a generator that coughed, and a crowd of people who still believed the last matinee in Skegness would bring them back. Dolores wanted the hearts gone before the spring booking. There were five of them, stacked down the inside of her wrist like the coloured rings the ringmaster used to hang from the rigging, and she had put them there at seventeen, the year her father lost the lease on the field in Lincoln.

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I started with the flat brush, long strokes that went over the edges and stopped short of nothing. Then the fluffy one, round and round in small circles, the way my own mother taught me on the fairground circuit when the bearded lady's arms needed doing for the Blackpool photographs. Under the bare bulb the pink went first, then the purple, and the blue last of all, as though the colours had simply agreed to lie down. The green held on longest. It always does. I told her to look at the skin under a window in the afternoon and she would see them still, faint as pencil under rubber.

"That's the trouble with hearts," she said, pulling her cuff down over the place. "They never really leave."

Outside, the generator caught and the bulbs strung along the empty field flickered on, one by one, for nobody but the rooks. Dolores took her place by the steps with her hands folded in front of her skirt, and when the band struck up the old march from the days of the full tent, she lifted her chin and walked out into the grey light as if the whole house were still sold out.

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