Two profiles almost touching on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A fine black line tattoo shows two faces in profile, one tilted towards the other as if about to kiss, with a single continuous outline and no shading. The photo is taken from behind a woman with dark hair in a bun, so the tattoo sits centrally on the upper back. The warm skin tones and cream top frame the design, which is the only colour in the image.

Fine line Back Face Profile Kiss Line art

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift in Harrow Point had been broken since the spring, so the people on the top floors learned to climb. Ada Mensah carried her shopping up the stairwell every evening and stopped on each landing to count the doors, the way her grandmother had counted steps down to a river. On the ninth landing lived a man called Tomasz Wrona, who repaired clocks for the whole estate and never once asked anyone the time.

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They met properly in February, when the power failed across three blocks and everyone came out onto the walkways with torches. Tomasz held his light low so it showed her face in profile against the dark concrete rail. "You are the one who counts," he said. She told him he was the one who never stopped. Neither of them laughed, but they stood close enough that their breath made one cloud between them, and then two again.

All that winter they talked on the landing without crossing it, leaning over the railing like two people trying to read the same small print. He told her about a watch that came in with a bird's feather jammed in its works. She told him about the sea she had never seen. Nobody in the block said they were courting. They only said it was a shame about the lift.

In April the council sent a van and mended the lift in an afternoon. Ada rode it up without counting for the first time, and found on her mat a small brass clock with its hands set to a minute before midnight, and a note in pencil: keep it stopped and it will always be nearly. She did not wind it. She set it on the sill facing the stairwell, where the evening light came through the glass and ran along the wall in one unbroken line.