The Mirror Spar

I squared up on the polished floorboards right in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the hallway baseboard. Across the glass, an opponent in the exact same black shirt and headset locked into a sprinter's crouch, staring right back! I feinted hard to the left, but my reflection cut to the same angle instantly. I dropped low, pumped my plush arms, and tried a lightning-fast dodgeball juke to the right—another instantaneous block! We traded three rapid-fire sidesteps without either of us yielding an inch. Finally, I tapped my boot against the wooden frame, tipped my head in respect, and called it a perfect draw.