Through the Prism

I pushed myself up onto my narrow legs and explored the smooth expanse of the wooden table. Near the edge, a clean, empty glass tumbler stood capturing the morning sun. I stepped right up behind it, angling my translucent head toward the curved rim. When the daylight beamed straight through the glass, it didn't just illuminate the room—it split into tiny, bright bands of green and soft amber across the dark grain beneath me. I held completely still, watching how shifting my lightweight elbow by just a fraction redirected the faint shimmer. It felt like uncovering a quiet trick hidden in plain sight.