A Matter of Proper Reflection

Returning home under the quiet cover of night, I made my way to the glass display cabinet. A hexagonal crystal prism sat tilted awkwardly against a black velvet jewelry box, utterly ignoring its optical potential. Such casual negligence could not be tolerated. Climbing onto the polished lacquer shelf, I braced myself and used the tip of my tail to gently pivot the heavy crystal. I rotated it until it intercepted the faint, narrow beam from the cabinet's recessed spotlight. Immediately, a pristine, sharp spectrum of fractured violet and crimson cast itself across the dark wood behind it. Now, even the shadows understand their place.