Through the Prism

The low floor had grown too familiar, so I climbed the barstool rung by rung until I reached the cool kitchen counter. A tall glass tumbler rested near a chrome toaster, catching the sharp morning sun. When I stepped between them, the glass threw a band of split colors across the pale quartz stone. I tilted my head. The rainbow did not move until I tapped the tumbler with two fingers. It rang a clear, high pitch, sending fine ripples through the water inside and scattering broken shards of violet and green across my arm.