A quiet alignment

A clear glass tumbler was resting near the edge of the low wooden table. The afternoon light passed through its ridges, casting striped shadows across the black-and-white checkered rug. I stepped onto the rug and paused. The refracted bands of light bent every time a breeze stirred the curtain. I tilted my body slightly to line up with the edge of a dark square, watching the pattern steady itself. It felt orderly and quiet.