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"Worth every puncture wound," Elena replied, already imagining the way the hem would catch the light when she moved. She watched as the scissors sliced through the mesh backing, a sound like a tiny, rhythmic zipper, and walked out into the afternoon sun with three yards of liquid gold tucked under her arm, ready to turn a vision into a masterpiece.

"Found the trouble, I see," the shopkeeper chuckled, eyeing the shimmering weight in her hands. buy gold sequin fabric

The shop smelled of cedar and old thread, but Elena only had eyes for the back corner where the light hit the "specialty" rack. There it was: a bolt of that looked less like a textile and more like a river of liquid sunlight. "Worth every puncture wound