Two small outlined hearts on the ear

The order was for Albert Fenn, a hatter on Wicker, who wanted his receipts stamped in violet ink with a mark customers would remember. Tom had been cutting the design for three weeks. Each morning he tried to make the hearts sit neatly, and each morning the lines crowded together, the outlines fighting for the same thin strip of metal.

On the Friday, Mr Fenn came in himself, hat in hand, and asked to see the proofs. Mrs Dunmore pulled a sheet from the drawer and laid it on the counter. He looked at the overlapping shapes for a long time, then tapped the join with one finger. "That's the one," he said. "Nobody's ever going to be able to tell which heart came first, and I like that." He paid for two hundred impressions and took them under his arm like a parcel of bread.

Tom never got the second plate right, so the old one went into the bin. Mrs Dunmore kept the proof, though, and pinned it above the bench where the light from the window fell across it. Every afternoon, when the tea went cold, she would look up and find the two hearts still holding each other, neither quite finished.