A Short Story: The Six Coins of Tigranes A Short Story About an Armenian Family Heirloom The bracelet had spent decades in a family drawer, quietly waiting for someone to ask about it. It was not particularly large or ornate. Six round silver-colored medallions, linked together by little rings, formed a narrow band. Its clasp was old-fashioned, almost mechanical. The metal had darkened with age, and the faces on the medallions seemed to emerge from another century. When I finally laid it on the wooden table and examined it closely, I noticed something remarkable. The six medallions alternated between two different images. One showed the profile of a crowned king. The other depicted a seated woman, accompanied by a strange little figure beneath her feet. I turned the bracelet over. Six smooth, nearly featureless backs stared up at me. No inscriptions, no maker's name, no silver hallmark. Just the marks of time. It had come from Lebanon, where it had been in the family for more than ...