Close view of a small black Hebrew lettering tattoo on a person's upper shoulder, above a grey strappy top.

Small Hebrew lettering on a shoulder

Lettering · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo of three Hebrew letters sits on the top of the shoulder, with the letters set side by side in a clean, upright lettering style. The ink is solid black with no shading, and the lines are even and crisp against the skin. The photograph is taken from the side against a plain beige wall, with the subject cropped below the chin and the tattoo placed near the left of the frame.

Lettering Shoulder Letter Lettering

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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 envelope came down the belt at ten past four, between a catalogue for garden sheds and a gas bill, and nobody in the Bradford sorting office could read it. There was no street, no town, no postcode. Only three characters in the middle of the cream paper, black and upright, each one set a careful distance from the next as if whoever made them had measured the gaps with a rule.

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Dev from the night shift held it under the strip light and said it looked like a word for water, and Gillian said it looked like a sum. Maureen took it from both of them and turned it over. The flap was sealed with a thumb of wax, pressed flat, and the paper had been folded into thirds with a crease so sharp it might have been ironed. She had worked the counter for thirty-one years and had never once been handed a letter without somewhere to go.

She sent it to the dead letter office, as the rules said, and then, because the rules did not stop her, she slipped it into the pocket of her cardigan and carried it home on the bus. Snow lay on the Shipley road in grey ridges. At her kitchen table she turned the envelope over and over until the wax softened under the warmth of her palm, and she wondered how a person might write to someone they could not name, marking the place only with what they knew how to write.

On Friday she took it back in, unopened, and dropped it into the bag for the Leeds run herself. Then she wrote the same three letters on the back of her shift card, pressing hard enough to feel their shapes through the board, and propped the card against the kettle where the morning light would find it.