Split Light

Leaving the coffee table, I tracked the afternoon light toward the corner window. Suspended from the blind cord hung a heavy, teardrop-shaped glass prism, swaying gently above the sill. I stepped onto the wooden ledge and caught the cold, beveled glass between my gloved fingers, arresting its spin. Angling its faceted edge directly into the sunbeam, the single white ray fractured across the floor into razor-sharp bands of violet, amber, and crimson. No blurred edges or dull haze—just clean, disciplined ribbons of color cutting across the dark timber. I gave the crystal a controlled half-turn, watching the refracted splinters sweep across the room like an advancing vanguard.