The Glass Cliff

I marched straight across the rug toward the coffee table leg and climbed up the wooden lower rung. My gut told me something was up here, and I don't ignore hunches. Right in the middle sat a glass coaster with carved spiral ridges underneath. I pressed my blue bead against the edge—it fitted into the spiral groove like a puzzle piece. There was a tiny click. A strange scratch mark cut right across the glass circle, pointing straight at the dark hallway. That's no accident. I stood over it, tracing the carved line with my boot toe. A message is definitely hiding in plain sight.