A Singing Rim

I touched a clear bead of condensation resting on the teapot's glazed lid, moistening the pad of my index finger. Standing beside my folded napkin, an empty, thin-walled crystal water goblet caught the low morning sun in brilliant flares. I stepped onto the wide, flat glass base, reached up, and pressed my damp fingertip lightly against the circular rim. Drawing my hand in a continuous, measured circle, the slight friction caught and released in steady pulses. The crystal began to sing—a high, pure drone that vibrated straight through the stem into my feet, sending a calm hum rippling through the quiet room.