Waterford Wonder
"Crystal artisan Nneka crafts treasures in Waterford's famous factory—but the thick Senegalese collector who commissions a custom piece wants something that can't be blown from glass."
The commission was unusual.
"Something that captures desire," Mariama requested. "Can you do that?"
Nneka looked at her client—thick Senegalese curves, eyes that held depths like the finest crystal.
"I'd need to understand desire first."
"Then let me show you."
The showing happened after the factory closed.
Among furnaces and molten glass, where heat transformed raw materials into art.
"You work with fire," Mariama observed. "I do too. Different kind."
"Show me."
Against cooling glass, they generated their own heat.
Mariama's thick body was soft where crystal was hard. Her sounds echoed off industrial walls.
"This is what desire looks like," she gasped.
"I understand now."
The crystal piece was extraordinary.
Abstract curves suggesting two forms intertwined. Light that played through it like captured passion.
"Perfect," Mariama breathed.
"It's us."
"I know."
Waterford gained a new patron.
Mariama returned for custom pieces. For the artisan.
"Best crystal I've ever owned," she told friends.
What she owned was much more than glass.
And far more precious.