The Shadow Line

A sharp triangle of morning light stretched across the low wooden sill. On the timber sat a square cork coaster, slightly skewed against the grain. I walked up to it and rested both hands against the rough edge. The cork slid smoothly without a sound. I nudged it forward until its top edge coincided exactly with the straight shadow cast by the window frame. The angle settled into place. A faint draft slipped through the narrow gap in the pane, humming low against the glass. I stood still beside the sill and watched the quiet shape of the light.