Weighted Exchange

Coarse salt grains scrape against a lower lip as the transaction begins. To claim the memory, one must offer more than coin; the merchant demands eyes that hold focus or hands that cease their trembling. This trade transforms attention into heavy, pressurized columns of brushed bronze, leaving a coppery tang upon the tongue. Every glance spent becomes an irreversible loss in another domain, yet as the weight settles, the phantom ache of what was traded finally begins to subside.