Hand-drawn black ink treble clef with the word music written in cursive inside its loop, sketched on lined notebook paper.

Treble clef with music lettering

Lettering · Black and grey · Flash

A single-line treble clef is drawn in black ink, with the word music written in flowing cursive script inside the lower loop. The linework is thin and even, with a looped tail and a curled top flourish. The design sits centred on a white sheet of lined notebook paper, with no shading or colour.

Lettering Fine line Treble clef Music Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hall smells of floor polish and warm sausage rolls, and somebody has pinned the old timetable to the corkboard beside the urn. You are on your second cup of stewed tea when Gwen Partridge taps your elbow and asks whether you still remember the Thursday choir. You say you remember the descant. She says nobody remembers the descant, which is exactly why Mr Okonedo kept making you sing it.

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Room 9, period five, the windows sweating in October. He drew the treble clef on the blackboard in one unbroken stroke, the tail swinging down below the stave as if he were landing a fish, then wrote the word music inside the bottom loop so the whole lesson sat inside the shape. You never learned to read a crotchet properly. You could always find that clef, though, scratched into the lid of your desk and in the margins of every hymn book he handed out.

Gwen has brought a school exercise book in her handbag, its cardboard cover soft as cloth. On the back page, in blue biro gone grey with age, is the same clef, drawn by you at fourteen, the word curling through it in handwriting that tried very hard to look like his. She asks if you still sing. You say only in the car, with the windows up. She laughs, turns the page, and goes quiet over a list of names you had forgotten you wrote.

Later, when the trestle tables are stacked and the caretaker is jangling his keys by the door, you lift the lid of the old upright in the corner. It is badly out of tune. You press the first note of the descant anyway, then the second, and the room stops pretending to talk. Gwen comes over with her coat over her arm and hums the line under her breath, a half-beat behind, exactly where Mr Okonedo always told her she would be.