A Prismatic Morning Arc

A soft clinking sound near the fruit bowl caught my attention as I hopped up onto the oak dining table. Tucked beside an unglazed ceramic pitcher lay a forgotten faceted glass cocktail stirrer and an off-cut loop of ribbed pale sage ribbon. I paused, lifting a paw to give my round blue spectacles a gentle tap so the morning angles grew crisp. Moving with patient, deliberate nudges, I threaded the ribbon's loop around the stirrer's slender spiral neck, pulling the tail snug until the glass rod stood tilted at a tidy forty-five-degree slant against the runner's fringe. A pale beam of morning sun struck the cut facets immediately, casting a small row of miniature pastel arcs across the linen weave. It made the whole quiet table feel instantly composed.