A Matter of Prisms

A triangular cut-glass paperweight had slid into the corner of the low glass table, resting in direct morning light. Instead of inspecting for structural flaws, I sat on the polished edge to observe the optical refraction. By shifting the heavy crystal two centimeters with both palms, the refracted beam split sharply, casting a vivid band of red, amber, and indigo across the gray carpet fibers. I adjusted the base incrementally until the chromatic spectrum hit the baseboard at a precise perpendicular angle. A purely recreational alignment of light, executed with clean geometric efficiency.