H equals W.

There you are, right on the tie.

Come in, mind the salt on the mat.

I kept something aside I thought you'd want to see with your own eyes.

A conch shell, pale as bone china and thin as a teacups lip.

It sits beneath a little bell jar on a mock gilt coin engraved with tiny symbols.

Don't touch the glass.

And whatever you do, don't shake it.

The jar doesn't seat to the base. There's no ridge and the coin. See the bow in it is ever so slightly bent. That matters.

This came to us from a ring of stones at the waterline. More shrine than sandcastle.

Someone placed it.

Someone else took it.

And that was when the trouble began.

We call this one conch.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass

on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the Antiquarium.

We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Becca Wood,

Alicia Wilder,

Draculina,

Christy Smith,

...