A Speck of Glass

I climbed up from the low stool to the wide painted windowsill. Behind the gauzy linen curtain, a small glass prism hung on a clear thread, swaying gently. I reached out both hands to steady it. Its heavy, faceted edges were cool against my palms. When I held it still against the morning light, a bright rainbow band split across the painted white wood and splashed right across my knees. I stayed kneeling there, watching the colors shimmer whenever the breeze outside nudged the pane.