One Glass Earring
At a pawnbroker's shop in an unimportant village, Lisveth found a single glass teardrop earring. It was colored in a deep blue, with a very faint gradient. Its mate had been lost at some point, and so it lay in a tray of discounted jewelry of little worth.
Galen remembered the single conversation they'd had about Lisveth's life before her time as a highway sorceress bandit. She had said almost nothing at all, but she had given him the small tidbit that she had liked blown glass. She had not practiced the art herself, or at least not much, but she enjoyed watching the process.
As part of the distraction while he negotiated for another item, far more valuable to them but just another trinket to the pawnbroker, Galen asked for the earring.
Lisveth was surprised by the gift, small as it was.
“Was this just to distract from the other purchase?”
Galen felt a bit foolish, now that he had to explain. “I thought—I don’t know much about glass, actually. I didn’t know if it might be something you’d like.”
Lisveth sobered, and for a moment he thought he’d offended her. He really didn’t know much about glass; perhaps he’d guessed entirely wrongly.
But at last she said, “You remembered that?”
“What? Of course. It wasn’t that long ago that you said it. And you remembered my stories, even if I’d hoped you’d forget.”
Lisveth stared down at the blue teardrop on her palm. “This isn’t blown glass. It’s stretched.”
“Oh.” He felt a little foolish.
She shook her head. “But I do like it.” She looked up at him. “Which ear?”
“Which ear do you want it in?” He shrugged. “Either. Does it matter? The left, I guess.”
She fixed the earring into her left ear. “Thank you.”
Her solemnity was making Galen uncomfortable. “Sorry I couldn’t get you a set.”
She smiled. “It’s more earring than you’ve ever gotten me before.” She stood from the bench. “Let’s get some fried dough to celebrate.”
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