Pepe's Nuts #220

Carried in a coat pocket through three winters, two spheres settled, the left slightly higher, perfectly inevitable. They carry the possibility of a family name spoken more softly in good rooms. Nuts will rise, and with them, the tide of those who held. Size varies, but purpose does not. Each carries the faint echo of a crowd whispering, imagine the smell. Ignore them now and risk generational regret later. Cataloged and carried forward, they remain.