The Live Bead [antikvár]

THE LIVE BEAD Five little beads lived in Galya's matchbox. And what a grand life they led: every day they were taken for a walk. Even now Galya was tipping up the box, letting all the litde beads roll out onto the table: two red, two blue and one yellow. They would go walking in pairs: the red in front, followed by the blue and then the yellow. Galya had found the last bead on the porch. She had been digging a stick into a crack one day, prising out bits of rind, grit and stones—nothing interesting, when suddenly she hit upon the little bead. Nice and round, smooth and weighty, obvious at once it was precious. Only with no hole. Instead of the hole it had little spots and patterns alongside just like a goat's horns. It did not really matter about the hole. Galya liked the new bead better than anything else.