A Glass of Water at Night

A tall glass of water sat near the edge of the low table, catching the faint amber glow of the bedside lamp. I walked over quietly, my blue clogs giving a tiny, rubbery squeak against the polished surface. When I leaned against the heavy glass, curved rings of pale light shifted across the wood like miniature waves. Dipping just the tip of one arm against the outer condensation, a cool drop slid down and pooled into a quiet bead. I sat beside the trembling halo, watching the amber bands settle back into calm.

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