Vegan semicolon wordmark on a wrist
Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A close photograph of a single word, vegan followed by a semicolon, tattooed in black ink on the inner wrist. The letters use a clean serif typeface with solid, even linework and no shading. The plain background of skin, yellow knitwear and a patterned fabric sits softly out of focus around the centred design.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The minutes of the Hollins Welfare Committee had been typed the same way for thirty-one years, every item closed with a full stop, and I was the one who typed them. So when Mrs Abney pinned a card to the canteen door reading vegan; in her looping capitals, I read it twice before I said anything to anyone.
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"It isn't finished," she told me when I asked. "I'm not stopping. I'm just not doing the pies." Her husband had come up from Number Four in 1962 with lungs like wet paper, and she had kept his mother's tin dishes because she could not bear to throw them out. They sat scrubbed in the back store now, gathering dust. The committee wanted to know whether the members' supper could still be called a supper.
At the meeting Councillor Pryce wanted a full stop, a clean line, a decision. Mrs Abney said nothing and folded her gloves in her lap. I typed what was said, and when I came to the item I left a semicolon where Pryce expected his period, because the matter was not settled and would be argued again on Tuesday.
The following week lentil broth steamed on the hotplate and the dishes stayed in the store. Pryce never mentioned the punctuation. The minutes from that night still end in a semicolon, and in all the years since, nobody has asked me to change it.
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