The Window He Tried to Take

Chapter 1: stained window

The first warning sign was the size.

Fifty-seven inches wide. Thirty-four inches tall.

I looked at the measurements again, imagining the finished stained-glass window stretched across one of the worktables in my studio. It would take up nearly the entire surface, leaving little room for tools, glass sheets, or another student.

It was almost twice the maximum size I allowed in class.

But size was only part of the problem.

The real problem was Ray.

I had spent years working with stained glass. People often saw the finished result—a bright window glowing in the afternoon sun—and thought the work was mostly artistic inspiration. They did not see the careful measurements, the dozens of paper patterns, the sharp edges, the soldering iron, or the hours spent fitting every piece together.

My studio was both a classroom and a working shop. Every table had a purpose. Every shelf was already crowded with glass, tools, and student projects waiting for the following week.

Ray had been one of my students for some time. I had helped him with patterns before. That was part of teaching: showing students how to turn an idea into a design that could actually be built.

But this project was different.