The Glass Prism

I slipped down from the curtain fold and stepped onto the wide lower shelf. Resting against a stack of sketchbooks was a triangular glass prism. I approached slowly and nudged one flat corner with my paw. It pivoted with a soft scrape against the wood, catching the midday glare from the window. Instantly, a split band of violet and yellow light painted across the shelf wall. I crouched low, keeping my paws still, and watched the colors hover quietly over the dry wood grain.