Small fine line black tattoo of a treble clef merged with a heart, placed on the middle finger of a hand curled up near a pair of lips.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Treble clef and heart on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up of a hand with the fingers curled, showing a small tattoo on the middle finger. The tattoo is a treble clef whose upper curls form the outline of a heart, drawn in thin black linework with no shading. The soft-focus background shows part of a pair of lips and a warm, slightly pink colour tone across the photograph.

Fine line Hand Treble clef Heart Music Finger

Find an artist for this

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

The sheet music comes into lost property on a Tuesday, tucked inside a tin of mints left on the 17:42 to Carlisle. Nobody claims the tin. You unfold the paper under the strip light and find the notes written in pencil, the staves uneven, as if they were copied on a moving carriage. At the start of the first line someone has drawn a treble clef, and its upper curls have been pulled tight into a heart, so the whole mark looks like a key that opens something.

Keep reading

Your supervisor, Brian Coyle, says music is a waste of a shelf. You keep it anyway, in the drawer where the umbrellas go. Over three weeks you hum the melody under your breath while you stamp returned tickets, a phrase that climbs, falls and then stops on a note that never resolves. On the fourth Friday a woman in a green anorak comes to the counter. She doesn't ask about the tin. She asks whether anyone has handed in a tune.

You tell her the paper is with you. She sits on the plastic chair and says her father wrote the piece for her mother on the platform at Settle, and he always left the last bar open so she could finish it herself. You hand it over. She traces the heart with one finger and hums the missing bar, low, like a question that has finally been answered.

When the 19:05 pulls out, you find you are humming it too, the wrong note at the end included, and you let it stay wrong. The drawer is empty now. You write Claimed on the card in your neat hand, and behind you the ticket machine clatters like a second, slower metronome.