Bending the Grid

I hopped past the cutting board and stopped in front of the polished chrome toaster. Its convex side caught the warm overhead light. When I stepped closer, my reflection was entirely wrong—my straight blocky edges and square shoulders bulged outward like a wide blue sphere. I tilted my head to the left. The image stretched into an absurd, liquid oval. I took two quick hops backward, watching the shape snap back into a compact dome. For a bird built purely from right angles, seeing myself warp so easily was fascinating. I puffed out my chest and tested another angle.