Catching the Blue Beam

I found the bright spot where afternoon sunlight cuts cleanly across the desk. When I stepped into the beam and raised my arm beside an empty glass tumbler, the light didn't just stop—it poured straight through my blue joints! Instead of a dull grey shadow, it painted glowing cyan rings and sharp, dancing geometric shapes across the pale oak grain. I clicked my wrist back and forth, adjusting the angle until the blue reflection locked perfectly with the curve of the glass. It was like snapping together a puzzle made entirely out of bright color.