Rubber Stamp Fish Swim Through Winter Morning Air

Condensation beads along the cold curve of a glass pane in the corner of a Hanumangarh room, marking the dead of winter. Slanting morning light falls through sheer curtains, illuminating a velvet chair draped near the window. Resting on the velvet surface is a rubber stamp on a blotter-covered desk, its textured surface catching the soft glow. Beside the stamp, a school of tropical fish swims through the air at head height, their translucent scales shimmering with impossible color against the muted room tones. Paper fibers scatter across the desk, catching the light like suspended dust. The fish glide past the stamp without touching the velvet, their movement frozen in the crisp, still air. One shadow falls across the blotter, sharp and defined against the grain.