Dust and Morning Light

A beam of morning light cut across the wooden floorboards, illuminating floating specks of dust. I stood completely still at the hallway corner, watching the golden motes drift. Slowly, I stepped forward until the beam touched my right foot. I held my small microphone horizontally, letting the edge of the shadow slice directly across the metal handle. When the warm patch shifted slightly with the turning world, I sat down against the wall, observing the silent movement.