Black and white photo of a small outlined diamond fine line tattoo on a wrist, with a braided cord bracelet and a blurred clenched fist above.

Small outlined diamond on wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small outlined diamond sits on the inner wrist, drawn with thin black linework and no shading. The photograph is in black and white, with a braided cord bracelet wrapped around the wrist below the tattoo and a clenched fist softly out of focus in the background. The tattoo is placed off-centre on the right of the frame, leaving the blurred hand as the main contrast.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Diamond Gem Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ovens at Hallam Street were already breathing when I came in through the back, the yard still black and the sky over the chimneys no lighter than slate. Nan had kept the bakery forty years and never once let the first tray go in before she had counted the loaves twice, so I counted them twice too, under my breath, while the dough knocked against the bench like something wanting out.

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It was the rye that went wrong. Three batches came out flat as biscuits, and Nan's ledger said the flour had come from Mill Lane, which had changed hands in March. I went through the sacks one by one, slitting the stitching with the bread knife, and in the seventh I found a hard little thing wedged in the seam, furred with dust. I rubbed it on my apron. It threw a splinter of lamplight straight back at me, sharp enough to cut.

I should have taken it to the police, or the mill, or at least to Mr Halloran at the chandlers who bought old jewellery by the ounce. Instead I dropped it in the tin where Nan kept the spare keys and sat with it while the first loaves came out gold. When she arrived at six she looked at the open sacks, then at me, and said nothing about the rye. She just held out her hand.

She turned the stone over in her palm and gave a short bark of a laugh. "Paste," she said. "Your grandfather bought a box of them off a fairground man in 1961 and swore we'd be rich by Christmas. Kept one for luck." She pressed it back into my fingers and reached for the flour bin. When she slid the next tray into the oven, the open door caught the stone in my palm and flung a small white star across the flagstones.