This pair of earrings has two hand-folded miniature paper cranes in gray, lacquered for strength and durability (very sturdy! Carefully lacquered paper maintains a bit of flex, so they’re reinforced but not brittle), arranged vertically with glass beads (amber and bronze, with a green cube accent), on stainless steel hardware. The wingspan of each crane measures just shy of ¾" (super tiny!), and the bottom of the earring hangs just about 1.5" from the earlobe. Paper cranes are lightweight but substantial, and a few glass beads give these earrings a real good dangle. ~~~ When the merchant just handed me one crusty seashell, I was speechless. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to leave; I found my voice as he reached for the door. “Hey,” I blurted, “on the phone you said you had a map for me? To guide me to earrings? This… is not a map, dude.” He turned only his head, his hand still on the doorknob, and stared at me for a beat, eyeing my antennae, gestured to the shell with his chin. “I said I had a guide for you. It is much better than a map, providing you can hear. Does a monster moth have ears under the fluffs?” “Mothgoblin,” I corrected, offended, “and yes I have ears. Obviously." “Good,” he grunted, and with one swift motion was out the door. Baffled, I lifted the shell to my ear, expecting to hear light, whooshing ocean sounds typical to what was obviously just a boring old run-of-the-mill seashell scam… and the quiet chanting gave me such a start that I dropped the thing and it rolled under a shelf. After fishing it out and dusting it off (how long has it been since I swept under that shelf? Yikes.), I gingerly tipped the opening toward my ear for another listen. “curious thissss,” it whispered, “flicker persissssstssss”. And then again and again, with more whispered voices joining in with each reprise: "curious thisss, flicker persissstsss, curious thisss, flicker persissssts”, until a sea of whispers was crashing out of the shell in an overwhelming wave of noise. As the wave broke over me, the voices dispersed, and I felt a sharp pinch on my antenna. Startled, I dropped the shell *again*, but was relieved to catch it right before it tumbled off the desk. When I lifted my hand, a tiny crab was wriggling its way out of the tight opening, one claw snapping open and shut, the other yanking a pair of earrings out behind it. The crab freed the earrings, dropped them in front of me, and scuttled straight back into the shell; before I knew it, the shell tipped off the edge of my desk, and bounced along the floorboards of my shop, leaving a grit trail of fine sand. I watched my door creak open a crack, the shell roll out, and the door bump shut. I grabbed a broom to sweep up the sand, and the dust from under the shelf while I was at it.
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