Bella Mason: Mother-of-Pearl

Stepping out from the quiet kitchen, I followed the brick-lined avenue until the bell chimed above the doorway of the neighborhood fabric boutique. On a broad maple cutting counter, a seamstress had left a shallow cedar tray scattered with loose mother-of-pearl buttons. Drawn by their iridescent luster and carved dual perforations, I climbed onto the table with steady, measured grace. Taking each disk between my hands, I lined them up along the counter's inlaid brass measuring groove, spacing the cool shells in a continuous gradient from smallest to largest. Running a fingertip across their seamless, luminous sequence brought me a delightful sense of order.