Close view of a white ink lace-style floral tattoo on a bride's shoulder and upper arm, with a white glove and veil visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

White ink floral design on a shoulder

Botanical · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A woman in a white strapless gown and white satin glove is photographed from behind, showing a delicate floral design on her shoulder and upper arm. The design uses white ink or pigment with fine, scrolling petals, leaves and a tapering vine, giving a lace-like effect on the skin. The shallow focus blurs a champagne glass and the veil in the background, with the design as the sharpest detail.

Botanical Shoulder Upper arm Flower Floral Lace Vine Leaves Bride Veil Glove

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The reunion was held in the sports hall because the old dining room had been converted into flats, and someone had hung paper chains across the basketball hoops that nobody had thought to take down since Christmas. I found Mrs Abney's card in my jacket pocket on the way in, the one she gave us in Year Nine, a stiff rectangle of cartridge paper with a pattern pricked into it in tiny holes. She taught us bobbin lace in the textiles room on Thursday afternoons, and she used to say that if you could make lace, you could make anything look fragile without it being weak.

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Nobody had seen Mrs Abney since she retired. Dev from the year above had a theory that she had moved to Cornwall and taken up lighthouses. Someone found the class photograph on a table near the urn, thirteen-year-olds in aprons holding up their finished collars, and we passed it round like a warrant. Lorraine, who had sat next to me and never once managed a clean cross-stitch, pointed out that my cuffs still had the bobbin mark. I told her it was the only thing I had ever finished.

Outside, the car park smelled of diesel and cut grass. I sat on the bonnet of my car and turned the card over. On the back, in pencil, Mrs Abney had written a name I didn't recognise, then crossed it out, and underneath she had written Keep the holes even. I had carried that card for fifteen years without knowing what it meant. Through the glass doors, someone's speech was starting with a joke about the chemistry lab fire, and the room laughed in the right places.

I went back in before the raffle. Lorraine saw me coming and handed me a glass of fizz without asking. I said I'd been thinking about lace. She said she'd been thinking about the chemistry fire. We agreed one of us was lying, and I gave her the card to keep, because a thing with that many holes in it is better shared.