Fine line black outline tattoo of a pineapple on the inner forearm, shown in a black and white photograph.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small pineapple outline on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small pineapple is drawn in thin black outline on the inner forearm, with a simple leafy crown and a grid of diagonal lines across the fruit. The tattoo sits in the centre of a bare arm against a dark background. The image is black and white, so the linework and any shading are shown in greys and blacks.

Fine line Forearm Pineapple Fruit

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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 crate comes off the four-fifteen from Liverpool with its stencil half rubbed away, and the porter swears it has been rattling about the guard's van since Crewe. Inside, wrapped in newspaper dated three weeks back, is a single pineapple. Nobody has claimed it. You turn it over in your hands and the leaves are still firm, the skin dry and checkered, as if someone has been careful with it.

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Station rules say perishables go to the buffet after seven days. You keep it on the shelf behind the ticket office instead, between a tin of Bovril and a stack of timetables from 1961, and you find yourself checking it the way you check the clock. Mr Abney from the signal box asks why the fruit has a name tag. It does not. He is thinking of the label on the crate, which read Penrose and Daughter, Falmouth, in careful capitals.

On the ninth morning a woman in a green coat stands at the counter and asks for nothing in particular. She keeps her gloves on. When you tell her about the fruit she goes very still, then says her father sent it to a girl he was courting at this station during the war, a girl who never came off the platform. She asks whether the crate might be opened. You lift the lid, and she lays one finger on the diamond pattern as though counting the windows of a house she grew up in.

She buys a single ticket to Falmouth and leaves the pineapple on the shelf. 'Keep it,' she says. 'It has waited long enough to be somewhere.' The four-fifteen pulls out, and by evening the fruit has begun to smell faintly sweet, which means it is finally ripening.