A Slanted Beam

A narrow blade of morning light sliced across the wooden floorboards, catching dust motes drifting midair. I slipped down from the bookshelf staircase and padded softly toward the fringe of the rug. In the bright patch lay a smooth glass prism paperweight. I tilted it gently with one curved hand. Instantly, fractured rainbow flares scattered across the dark baseboard, darting like tiny luminous fish whenever I nudged the glass. I crouched low in the shadow just beside it, watching the colors flicker until the light began to shift.