Coin's Weight

A slick chill remained on the hand after leaving the market, a phantom sensation from transactions concluded and then dissolved. Stacked outside the foundry’s shadowed entrance were crates of unmarked porcelain, cool to the touch and bearing subtle imperfections in their pale surfaces. The pieces didn't offer themselves up to simple description; one sensed not emptiness but faint reverberations of creation within each form. A low hum vibrated through the concrete as celadon light bloomed with streaks of crimson, hinting at a source now receding—a quiet resonance that faded as dusk settled over the field.