Friday Fictioneers: Girl’s Best Friend
The child leans over my display. With cracked teeth, her smile is almost comical as her eyes devour the shiny stones.
The gray gems, she doesn’t like them, too smoky, she says. And not the silver links, I can scratch myself with those, don’t I know?
Butterfly charms? Flimsy. Besides, pink reminds her of cotton candy, no thank-you.
But the amber beads, ah, just the right clarity, texture, and weight. Nine bucks is a bit pricey, but she loves caramel.
Amber beads clamped between teeth, the child walks away. From behind my counter, I hear the unmistakable crunch of teeth breaking like porcelain.
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