Through the Glass Gap

Floating past the guitar case, I drifted upward toward the high wooden bookshelf. Between two thick art books sat a heavy glass prism paperweight. I slowed down, circling its cut bevels in midair before aligning my body with the narrow passage behind it. As I slipped silently through the gap, an angled beam of afternoon light sliced across the glass, throwing fractured violet and cyan flares right along the path ahead of me. I paused there, hovering just inches above the polished wood, letting the cold edges of the glass flank my glide.