A Brass Prism by the Pane

The quiet bell over the shop door gave a muffled jingle as I slipped inside. Rows of dark mahogany display cases held clocks, tarnished compasses, and old spectacles resting on velvet pads. Near the front window, an antique brass prism perched on an adjustable brass tripod caught the muted morning light. Kneeling down beside the walnut counter, I adjusted the knurled screw with slow, careful fingers, angling the heavy triangular glass toward the paned window. A brilliant, silent fan of rainbow light refracted across the dark floorboards, washing the dusty wood in quiet violet and amber.