Close-up of two hands with small fine line tattoos in black ink, a strawberry on one middle finger and a potted cactus on another finger.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small strawberry and cactus finger tattoos

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two small tattoos sit on the fingers of a hand, one showing a strawberry shape with a leafy top and the other a cactus in a pot. Both are drawn with thin, simple black linework with light shading, and there is no colour. The image is a close crop of the hands against a dark background, with a few faint thin lines near the knuckles.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The strawberry was the first thing Nell bought at the Saturday market in Margate, a fat red thing with a crown of green leaves, and she carried it home in her coat pocket like contraband. By the time she reached the harbour wall it had bruised on one side, and she was already regretting the sixty pence.

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Dev ran the cactus stall two pitches down, a squat spiky thing in a clay pot with a chipped rim. He had never sold a plant that did not look faintly offended to be bought. 'Water it when you remember,' he said, 'which will be never, so it'll suit you.' She laughed, and he didn't, and that was the start of the trouble.

Over the winter they traded. Her strawberries for his cactus, a fortnight of jam for a pot of needles, until the windowsills of both flats were a conversation neither of them had agreed to have. In March the strawberry put out one white flower, and Dev came round with a torch to see it, because the cactus had been flowering for a week and he wanted her to know he had been right about something.

They never named the arrangement, and it never needed naming. The strawberry went brown in the second summer. Dev took the dead plant down to the bins, came back up with the cactus under one arm, and set it on her sill beside the empty pot. 'It's yours now,' he said. 'Water it when you remember.' She did not remember once, and it lived anyway.

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