Black and grey typewriter-style lettering reading 'We only part to meet again' runs diagonally along a forearm, partly covered by clear wrap.

Typewriter quote along a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A diagonal line of black lettering set in a typewriter-style monospaced font reads 'We only part to meet again' along the length of a forearm. The letters are crisp and evenly spaced, with solid black ink and a clean edge against the pale skin. The photograph is black and white, with the forearm filling the frame against a dark background and clear plastic wrap visible over the skin.

Lettering Forearm Quote Word Typewriter font Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the typewriter, it bites when it is cold, and this morning it is cold as a widow's kitchen. Sit down, sit down. You want the story of the girl with the Olivetti? Then listen, because I only tell it once a year and the year is nearly spent.

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Her name was Ruth Adair, though everyone along the Kingsway called her the Typist, and she kept a card table outside the Tollgate Café where the road gives up its tarmac and goes over into sand. Lorries stopped for her. Men who could not write a line to their mothers came with their hats in their hands, and she typed what they could not say. Every letter she finished she closed with the same six words, tapped out flat and square at the foot of the page: We only part to meet again.

One August a man called Ansel Dorn came by with a letter for a wife who had gone east with a travelling fair. He wanted it to say he was sorry. Ruth asked him what he was sorry for, and he could not answer, so she typed the sorry for him, all the way down, and at the bottom, where the others went, she stopped with her fingers hovering over the keys. The machine waited. Then she typed the closing line, and pushed the sheet across the table.

Ansel read it twice in the heat and folded it into his shirt. Years later, so they say, a woman in a fairground queue in Lincoln read those same words printed on a paper bag and walked straight out of the line to find him. That is the whole of it, and the road keeps the rest. Now, pass me the kettle.