A Glass of Sun

I crossed the warm terracotta tiles over to the low bistro table where an empty fluted drinking glass sat upside down. On its base lay a fallen crimson bougainvillea petal, dry and paper-thin. I picked it up, feeling its delicate veins, and slid it neatly under the clear rim. Pushing gently against the glass stem with both hands, I watched the noon sun catch the fluted crystal, scattering bright ruby geometric patterns across the painted metal table. The vibrant flare felt like turning on a tiny spotlight just for myself.