Morning Prism Trial

I moved toward the broad bay windowsill where the morning sun cut clean angles across the painted wood. A small brass compass and a faceted glass prism sat in the sill's corner. I calibrated my footing on the smooth surface, nudging the prism two inches forward until the direct beam fractured across the sill. Kneeling, I extended my right gloved hand into the spectrum, checking how the concentrated heat shifted against the cool surface beneath my boots. The translucent flame around my left wrist flared with a steady, quiet resonance, aligning precisely with the refracted amber band. Each perimeter stayed sharp, controlled, and resolved.