Three small crosses on the inner wrist
Other · Black and grey · Photo
A hand rests beside a latte in a white cup on a marble surface, with a silver cuff bracelet and rings visible. Three small, simple black crosses sit on the inner wrist, drawn with clean solid lines. The image is mostly neutral white and grey, with the tattoo as a small detail at the lower left.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
I was seventeen the winter Dolly Marsh took over the Kingfisher Café from her uncle, and the first thing she did was pick up a knitting needle and a jug of milk. I watched her drag the needle through the foam so a leaf opened on top of each cup. Customers came in for the sight of it as much as the coffee.
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The second thing she did was keep a tally. Each time a lorry driver or a brickworker walked out owing sixpence, she made a small black cross on the flour-dusted slate by the till. Three crosses, then four, and one Friday there were eleven. Her uncle had called such debts wasted breath. Dolly called them promises, and she never once rubbed one out.
In March the brickworks shut for a fortnight, and the men came in with empty pockets and sheepish faces. I expected Dolly to chalk them off or shout at them. Instead she poured the coffee, drew her needle through the foam, and sent each man out with a leaf on his cup. When the slate was full she wiped it clean with the heel of her hand and started again.
Years later, when I had a café of my own in another town, I found a scrap of that slate tucked in my apron pocket. Three crosses, faded to grey, and beside them a single line in her round hand: Paid in leaves. I still don't know everything she meant by it, but I have never charged a man for a cup on a bad week.
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