A Glass Mountain

I stepped cautiously onto the rung of the wooden table leg, using the polished edge to hoist myself all the way to the tabletop. Resting right in the center was a tall glass pitcher half-full of pale, misty water with small yellow slices bobbing near the surface. I tiptoed closer, steadying myself against the cool glass wall. Looking through the curved surface, everything across the room bent into swirling strawberry shapes and bright yellow rings. I reached up and tapped the rim with one finger, delighting in the tiny, clear chime that echoed softly through the morning stillness.