Small black and grey fine line tattoos on the fingers of a hand with bright green nail polish, including a skull on the ring finger and short lettering on the middle finger.

Small skull and lettering on fingers

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand with bright green nails rests on a dark car seat, with a grey knitted sleeve visible at the wrist. A small grey skull outline sits on the ring finger with a curved bow-like shape above it, and a short word in small lettering is on the middle finger. The linework is thin and the ink is greyish black, with the composition focused on the fingers.

Fine line Lettering Hand Skull Lettering Bow

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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

You come in through the back at twenty to five, when the yard is still black and the flour sacks sweat in the cold. Mrs Okafor has left the proving baskets under their cloths and a note on the slate: ring the bell for the van, the rye is short. You tie your apron twice, the way your nan taught you, and open the oven doors first, because the oven always knows when you are late.

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Nobody orders a skull before six. Out front the window still holds the reflection of the street lamp, and the only customer so far is the man from the taxi rank, who buys one bun and a paper bag of day-old bagels for the pigeons. On the back bench sits a box for the tea at Ashgrove Chapel, and inside it is the cake you piped last night: a small grey skull in royal icing, a bow of sugar ribbon above it, one loop a little lopsided because you were tired and did not care enough to redo it.

Mrs Okafor is standing in the doorway with her coat still buttoned. She looks at the cake for a long time without touching it. "Somebody's gran will want that loop straight," she says at last, and it is not a complaint, so you do not argue.

You take the piping bag, warm from your palm, and fix the bow with the tip held just above the sponge. The first van lights swing across the glass. The loop comes right, and for the first time that morning the shop smells of nothing but bread.