I close my fist around the object but pieces of it escape between my fingers and dangle and sway and hang down, pulled by gravity toward the ground. I try and scoop them back into my palm and bunch it up into a ball so it fits snug and tight but the snakelike pieces; long and thin and bitty are alive and move back down. The coldness begins to disappear and, reptile like, it absorbs my body heat and grows warmer beneath my touch. Attached to a long chain are round flat shapes, paper thin and smooth beneath my fingertips, like shards of glass worn soft from the ocean's waves and washed ashore anew. I fiddle and touch and explore these lovely confetti shapes and their music rings out loud and tinkling, jangling, clanking bell like sounds tumbling out and over each other; jostling to be heard. Their smell is thick and pungent in the air, becoming stronger as the metal warms in my hands- a musty, salty fragrance, with overtures of sweet. Throws up memories of copper coins smelt on my fingertips; a grazed knee from childhood as a drop of red blood oozes out and trickles down my leg.
I lay it down and spread it out in front of me, untangling it's many legs and leaving it exposed upon the wooden top. A necklace, in flinty gold, patchy and dulled with dirt. Unclasped and straight, the metal petals twist over and under, tangled in the chain. And here and there, watery light hits the metal and a kaleidoscope of gold catches light.
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