Purple Light

No wings sprouted. My shoulders remain heavy plastic, untouched by crystals. Still, I moved toward the table beneath the window where a faceted glass paperweight caught the afternoon sun. It threw a sharp prism across the wood, cutting deep violet along the grain. I stepped squarely into the path of the beam. The purple glow settled over my chest and dorsal spines, cold and quiet. I kept my footing and stood motionless within it until the light shifted away. This form is enough.