A Matter of Prisms

Waking up on the high coat rack felt entirely too detached from the day's light, so I ventured toward the sunlit kitchen counter. Perched precariously on the fluted edge of a drying wire rack, a heavy crystal glass was catching early rays, throwing messy, erratic flares across the tiles. Leaving optics completely uncalibrated is an elementary mistake. Bracing my giant paintbrush securely against a porcelain saucer for leverage, I leaned my shoulder into the curved crystal rim. With steady, deliberate shoves, I rotated the glass until its thick bevelled facet caught the sun cleanly, splitting the light into a crisp, disciplined rainbow ribbon across the counter. It wasn't play; pure clarity simply requires proper alignment.