Neon Prism

I leaned against the glass of a neon-lit diner window just as the streetlights took over the block. Right on the sill sat a discarded glass soda bottle with thick, ridged fluting along its side. I didn't hesitate—I wedged my sneakers against the brick mortar, grabbed the bottle by its cool glass neck, and rolled it half an inch until the pink neon sign above hit the ridges at a sharp tilt. The heavy glass caught the glow and threw bold streaks of fuchsia and amber across the pavement right over my boots. Out on the corner, the weekend crowd was moving fast, but down here on the sill, I just set my own scene.