Prism Alignment

I mounted the bevelled wooden molding at the base of the tall mirror where a forgotten cut-crystal chandelier droplet lay resting in a groove. Morning sunlight hit the faceted glass at an angle, scattering fractured speckles of yellow and blue across the carpet. I braced both rigid feet on the oak trim and gripped the cold crystal facet with my curved hands. With a slow, five-millimeter twist, I adjusted its angle against the mirror frame. Instantly, the scattered beams converged into a single sharp spectrum line spanning the baseboard. I stepped onto my tiptoes, raised both arms outward at forty-five degrees, and floated motionless until all vibration subsided. (voice feminization and happy)