Prism in the Light

A triangular glass paperweight sat heavy on the low side table near the sunlit glass door. Cold edges. Dense mass. I walked across the rug and wrapped my heavy gauntlet around its polished bevels, lifting it down to the sunlit oak floorboards. I tilted the apex toward the glare. A sudden band of split light sheared across the grain, throwing vivid streaks of crimson, cyan, and violet against the wood. I adjusted the angle by two precise notches. The colors held sharp and unmoving across the floor.