A Patch of Bright Reflection

I climbed up the textured curtain fold onto the low sill. A bright sliver caught my attention... resting flat in the morning angle. It was a glass prism paperweight. I paused, watching the still band of sharp color split across the white painted wood. Slowly, I reached forward and nudged the heavy cold corner with both soft palms. The glass shifted an inch. Instantly, the scattered streak leaped upward, painting a faint blue and amber arc across the wall. I stepped back, observing the quiet angle settle.