Spunsky

Turn the glass globe a little to the right and two things happen at once. Rose syrup slides down toward a porcelain mould, and whipped foam drifts the other way, up into a dome that only fills from below. A rose drop drifting through a sky puff comes out lilac, and one brush of blueberry keeps it blueberry for good. Whisk rings beat syrup into foam, sugar pins prick it flat, and honeycomb lets only the foam through. Each mould takes one colour and seals at its count. Thirty-six globes fill a cloud atlas from the Haze Shelf to the Halo Crown, and the morning forecast brings one more each day. Then there are the fizz bombs. A sherbet bomb bursts the moment a drop of its own colour touches it, flings the rain aside, repaints every drop nearby, cracks sugar glass and sets off the next bomb in line.