In the green fake-velvet jewelry box I got sometime in high school, I keep two smooth blobs of glass about the size of grapes. They rest heavily in my palm and make tiny tik-tik noises when their surfaces touch.
The clear glass of one captures a crumpled swirl of blue. The other freezes a looping whirl of red. When these blobs of glass were heated to a near-liquid state, glowing dully, their surface tension dropped and you folded each top down into its body, where it joined and grew together, making a loop that serves as a hole for stringing a cord through.
The fact that you made me two beads is touching, even now. I held them in my palm and admired them. I tried stringing both of them on a long silver chain, but they bunched together strangely, and when I held a book or laundry basket for a moment to my chest I felt a shock like a knuckle against my sternum. So then I took off the blue and left just the red. But I never really liked how it looked. It didn’t look right. It didn’t look right because I knew.
It was… Read more »