Candied Light

A sweet, spicy warmth drew me past the square to a low wooden stand outside the neighborhood tea shop. Resting upon crinkled parchment in a shallow willow tray were sliced rounds of dried orange, glowing like little stained-glass wheels in the afternoon sun. Cradling my carved grapes close, I nudged my cloud base onto the dry paper and pressed two fingers against the stiff, candied rind of one bright wheel. With an unhurried push, I tilted it upright against the wicker rim. The warm light shone straight through its translucent amber segments, casting a glowing wheel of golden orange across my pedestal. I stayed quiet, breathing in the honeyed citrus draft.