Through the Golden Lens

A pair of round, tortoiseshell sunglasses lay folded across a canvas tote on the cafe bench. I paused. Wide-eyed. So still. Taking two careful, wobbly steps forward, I leaned my weight against the dark plastic frame. Hoo... The smooth rim tilted upright. I pressed my nose right against the amber curve of the glass. Oh... my breath caught. The pale sidewalk and grey bricks vanished. Everything turned warm, glowing honey-gold, like an afternoon dipped in sweet tea. I pulled my face back—grey stone. Leaned in again—golden magic. Two worlds, separated by one tiny glass circle.