A Glass Prism

The midday glare hit the ledge with blinding force. I stepped past the upright copper coin and followed the window frame toward the display glass. Resting against the outer pane was a heavy glass triangular prism, left behind on the wood. I knelt, assessing its crisp edges, then braced my shoulder against its flank to tilt it two inches forward. The sharp white glare shattered immediately into a spread of clean, silent color across the sill. I sat back on my heels, letting the quiet band of blue and amber wash over my knees.