Teacup with red heart on wrist
Other · Mixed · Photo
A small teacup with an ornate handle and a fine lattice pattern is outlined in black ink on the wrist. A solid red heart sits inside the cup, the only colour in the design. The tattoo is photographed close up against a plain cream wall, with a dark sleeve at the edge of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The fog came in before the kettle had boiled, so Walter Hale stood at the gallery rail with his tea going cold in the cup his sister had posted him in October. It was a thin white thing with a handle curled like a fern, and its sides were webbed with fine black lines, the same pattern as the iron glazing around the lamp. Ada had painted the heart inside herself, a dab of red glaze she swore would wash out in the dishwater. It never had.
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The lamp turned, a slow sweep through the murk. Walter counted the flashes as he always did, one every fifteen seconds, and somewhere out past the Skerrow reef a trawler sounded its horn twice, lost and polite about it. He had kept the light eleven years and had learned that the sea noticed anything careless. Ada's letters never mentioned the sea. They described the price of coal in Hexham, the neighbour's goose, the way the wireless kept cutting out during the shipping forecast.
At two in the morning a second light appeared low on the water, and it flashed back at him. Not in the rhythm of a buoy, but in his own count, fifteen seconds exact, as if someone out there had been listening and had learned it. Walter took the cup from the rail and set it down on the lamp room floor where the paraffin smell was strongest. He wound the mechanism by hand when the spring slackened, and he kept the beam going until the answering light grew steady and came in through the gap by the rocks.
By dawn the fog had lifted and the trawler lay at anchor in the bay. Walter poured out his tea, cold as slate, and found the red heart still bright at the bottom of the cup, bright as it had been the day Ada painted it.
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