A Measure of Light

Night had fully settled outside, so I slipped back in from the balcony and made my way toward the living room bookshelf. Near the lower shelf, a fallen, unlit brass tea-candle holder sat upright on the parquet floor. I gripped the rim of its polished cup to haul myself onto the wide base, feeling the heavy metal steady beneath my feet. Inside lay a single, round glass marble left behind by someone. I leaned forward, pressing both hands against the smooth glass sphere, rolling it just an inch. It caught the warm glow of the overhead lamp, scattering a quiet prism across the dark floorboards.