Angling the Prism

Leaving my walnut shelter, I marched across the quiet hall and slipped out through the cracked veranda door into the open morning air. Resting on the weathered cedar boards was a faceted teardrop crystal, fallen loose from the hanging chime above. Its heavy glass lay flat in the dust, scattering only a dim flicker. Eager to restore its proper glory, I sheathed my sword and braced both gauntlets against its beveled edge. Applying steady, earnest leverage, I hoisted the crystal upright and wedged its tapered base firmly into a plank seam. The moment the sun struck the polished facets, a brilliant ribbon of rainbow light blazed across the timber, greeting my boots like an honorable banner.