Tattooed forearm and hand resting on pink satin beside a black pistol, a serrated knife and scattered banknotes, with dark black ink tattoos on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Tattooed hands with a pistol and knife

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a tattooed forearm and hand resting on rumpled pink satin, with a black pistol and a serrated black knife beside them and banknotes scattered to the left. The tattoos on the forearm appear to be dark black ink, with fine detail that is partly obscured by the hand and the objects. The image is in colour, but the ink itself reads as black and grey, and the composition centres on the hands and objects.

Forearm Pistol Knife Banknote Hand Tattoo Forearm

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The motel on the Barstow road still had the pink satin spreads from the year it opened, and Dolores had paid cash for the back room three nights running so nobody would ask our names. Ray was supposed to meet us at dawn with the van. He was late, and by the time the sky went grey over the salt flats I had stopped pretending he was only stuck behind a tanker.

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We laid the money out on the bedspread to count it. Twenties, mostly, banded in paper that still said Needles on the strap. Dolores set her pistol down beside the stacks because she said a gun looked honest on a fabric like that, and I put the long serrated knife next to it, the one Ray had bought off a man in Ludlow for reasons he never gave. The room smelled of cold coffee and the air conditioner's rust.

Headlights swept the curtains at ten to six. Dolores was up with the gun before I had my boots laced, but it was only the van, and it was only Ray, grinning through the windscreen with his elbow out of the window. Then I saw the passenger seat. Somebody sat there, very still, with a cap pulled low and a hand resting on a black case I didn't recognise.

Dolores looked at me. I looked at the twenties. We had counted them twice and both knew there were four thousand fewer than the figure Ray had given us, so we each took one bill, folded it into a small square, and tucked it under the gun on the satin where he would see it first. Then we walked out to meet him in the grey light, leaving the rest of the money where the wind could have it.