Small black panda face tattoo made of simple solid shapes, placed on the upper shoulder beside a white strap top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small panda face tattoo on a shoulder

Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a panda face sits on the upper shoulder, built from two large black oval patches, two smaller ovals and a single dot. The shapes are solid black with no visible shading or fine linework. The ink is set against smooth skin on a plain pale background, with the photo framed close on the shoulder and collarbone area.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You find the panda on the fire escape at ten past two in the morning, wedged between a bin bag and a cold radiator, working through a stalk of bamboo that someone has clearly bought from the late shop on Tanner Street. It regards you the way a bus driver regards a fare who has paid in coins. Two black eyes, two smaller ears, one dot for a nose. Nobody on Carrow Lane has ever seen it before, and you are the only one awake to notice.

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"Right," you say, because somebody has to say something. The panda chews. You sit on the top step, which groans, and check the lost pet notices on your phone. Nothing from the zoo, nothing from the council. Below you the city hums the way it does after the last trains: a delivery van reversing, a fox trotting along the gutter with the air of a landlord, the neon sign of the kebab place buzzing on and off over the bins. The panda shuffles closer and leans its weight against your knee, warm and heavy as a sack of flour.

By three you have settled on a plan, which mostly involves the number 14 bus and a long conversation with the driver. The panda has other ideas. It stands, takes the stairs one careful step at a time, and wanders off down the alley toward the canal, pausing at every puddle to check its reflection. You follow, because that is what the night is for.

At the towpath it stops beneath the one lamp that still works, sits down and stares at the water as if it has an appointment. Then it lifts one paw and waves, slowly, at nothing in particular. You wave back. Across the canal a window lights up, and by the time you turn round the panda has gone, leaving a single bamboo leaf on the wet stone.

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