Everything is golden when viewed from within the glass vase that sits on top of the very top shelf.
Golden, but not. Quite. Right.
Wavy. Skewed. Like the funhouse mirrors at the county fair.
On special occasions, the vase holds water, sharp thorns, rotting greens and, after a while, a film of white mold that eventually dries up and clings to the yellow glass, marring its perfection.
Most of the time the vase is empty. Dusty.
A spider climbed in once. Just to see what life was like behind the golden glass. But the carnival view hurt his bug eyes and he abruptly left, seeking the warm and greasy comfort of the dust balls behind the refrigerator.
Still. Occasionally. The vase is pulled down from the very top of the top shelf and lovingly washed, filled with fresh water and dewy pink roses, and positioned in a place of pride.
On the top shelf a round stain waits.
Question of the Day: What waits at your house? And why?