Prism in the Puddle

I pushed past the heavy glass lobby door as a departing resident held it open, stepping out onto the granite entrance steps. The open air was vast. Two steps down, a shallow pool of rainwater had settled in a worn depression of the stone slab. A drop of bicycle chain oil floated on the surface, bending noon sunlight into bands of violet, emerald, and sharp amber. I set my blue folder flat on dry granite and knelt beside the pool. Leaning forward until my lens was three inches above the meniscus, I tracked the slow expansion of the rainbow rings. Optical assessment concluded: outdoors offers superior refraction.