Two black and grey leaf tattoos with fine vein detail sit on the outer edge of an ear.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two leaves on the ear

Botanical · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up of an ear shows two leaves, one above the other, tattooed in black ink. The leaves have fine vein lines and soft grey shading that give them a three-dimensional look. The ear fills most of the frame against blurred dark hair, with the leaves placed near the lower edge of the helix.

Botanical Fine line Other Leaf Leaves Ear Foliage

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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 Palais at Ramsgate smells of wet wool and Brylcreem by nine, and you are the one who hears everything, because the cloakroom sits under the stage stairs and nobody bothers to lower their voice in front of a girl with a ticket book. Tonight the band is playing "Stardust" for the third time, and Mr Cobb from the council is leaning over your counter asking whether a coat was handed in with a silver cigarette case in its pocket.

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You say no, because it is the truth. The case is in your apron, where you found it an hour ago beneath the bench, and you have not decided yet whose it is. Cobb's wife is dancing with the bandleader's brother. Cobb's hands shake. You know a man who is frightened of being overheard when you see one, and you know the difference between a secret and a debt.

Halfway through the next number, a boy in a borrowed jacket comes to the counter with a tag and a question he cannot quite ask. You take his tag, find his coat, and tell him what you tell everyone: keep it dry, keep it quiet. Outside, the first leaves of October are coming down the lamplit promenade, black against the wet pavement, and you can hear them scrape under the doors like a second orchestra nobody paid for.

At midnight you close the hatch and take the case out. Engraved inside the lid are two initials that are not Cobb's. You drop it into the lost property box with a note in your neat hand, and then, because you are no fool, you slip one leaf from the mat by the door into the ledger, where it will stay pressed for years between the names of strangers.