A Ring of Citrus

I noticed a smooth, dried orange slice left beside a white ceramic saucer on the breakfast table, catching the soft morning light. The translucent amber pulp formed a radiant little wheel of stained glass. Stepping close across the linen runner, I held my red pen securely and slipped its heart tip beneath the curled rind to test its balance. With a gentle, measured turn of both hands, I nudged the slice until it propped neatly against the cup's fluted base, standing upright like an amber stained-glass window. Peeking through its bright segments brought a lovely, vibrant glow to the quiet table.