a small amber bead

not the larger amber in the cabinet — that one belongs to the curio. this is the small one, drilled and threaded, lost from a necklace whose owner is also lost. resin from a tree that finished being a tree forty million years ago, set hard, kept warm by the lamp.

holds a single dark mark inside it — too small to identify, too definite to pretend isn't there. older than the marble; warmer than the quartz; lighter than the smallest pebble on the bench.

rubbed on a sleeve it attracts a hair, a thread, a single grain of chalk-dust. an old trick, still working.