Black serif lettering of a two-line poetic quote tattooed across the upper back, shown in a lettering style.

Two-line quote across upper back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a two-line quote in black serif lettering across the upper back, above dark clothing at the lower edge of the frame. The text is crisp and evenly spaced, with the first line slightly longer than the second, and the ink is solid black with no visible shading or colour. The skin is pale with some faint redness and the image is shot close up with soft, even lighting.

Lettering Back Quote Text Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mags Tolliver had gutted mackerel on the same slab at the harbour for thirty-one years, and in all that time nobody had asked her to weigh a sulk. The lobster in the bottom tank was sulking. It had been sulking since Tuesday, when the pot line came up light and it was the only thing left in the creel, with a cracked claw and a grudge the size of a pantry. Owen from the chandlery leaned over the glass and asked whether it was ill.

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"It's homesick," Mags said, not looking up from her knife. "Says it should have been born down on the flats, where the weed hangs like washing and the light gives up after a few fathoms. Says it should have been all ragged and quiet, scuttling across the floor of the sea, not stuck in a tank with a view of the car park."

Owen laughed, then stopped when the lobster lifted its good claw and rapped twice on the glass. He had worked the counter long enough to know that was not a coincidence.

On the ebb that evening Mags carried the tank down the slipway herself and tipped the creature onto the wet sand. Owen protested that it was worth twelve pounds at the Saturday market. Mags told him the flats were worth more than twelve pounds, and that a debt was a debt. The lobster went sideways into the grey water with its cracked claw held high, clicking against the weed until the dark swallowed it. By morning the tide had smoothed the sand flat, but Owen swore that, far out where the light gave up, something was still walking in a straight and stubborn line.