Black typewriter-style lettering tattoo on a forearm reading happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

Typewriter quote along the forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A line of black typewriter-style lettering runs diagonally across the inner forearm, set in three staggered lines of lowercase text with a comma and a full stop. The letters are crisp and evenly weighted, in solid black ink with no shading or colour. The skin is photographed in a warm indoor setting, with a person's hands and a wooden surface visible at the edges of the frame.

Lettering Forearm Quote Text Typewriter font

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had buried the lane to Hollin Crossing by four o'clock, and by nine the generator at the Fleece had started coughing like an old man in a cold church. You were behind the reception desk with a torch wedged under your chin, trying to find the box of candles, when the last of the hall lamps gave up and the dark came down the stairs.

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Mrs Abernethy in room six was sure the roof would go. The Dutch couple had gone quiet in the snug. A boy of about nine kept asking whether the snow could get in through the keyhole. You had nothing to offer but the old Olivetti under the counter, the one Mr Pryce used for guest cards, and a half-spent ribbon of black ink that still printed if you hit the keys hard enough.

So you typed. One card for each door, slid under them with the candle wax still warm: happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. It was a line Pryce had kept pinned above the till for thirty years, and nobody had ever asked him what it meant. By the time the last card went under the door of room six, the boy had stopped asking about keyholes and the Dutch couple were playing cards by the hearth.

At midnight the generator caught with a shudder, and every bulb in the building came back at once. Mrs Abernethy stood in the corridor in her dressing gown, card in hand, squinting at the glare. "Well," she said. "Somebody was thinking." You reached for the switch on the wall anyway, and left it on.