Meeting in the Glass

I crawled up the grassy creek bank and followed the brick lane home, slipping under the front door gap into the dark house. Near the coat bench, a small brass pocket mirror lay open on the braided runner, its glass catching the faint amber glow of the nightlight. Pausing at the rim, I leaned my head forward. Another stone turtle looked back at me from the bright circle, wearing the exact same weathered shell and patient gaze. Slowly, I extended my front flipper until its tip touched the cool glass, meeting the mirrored flipper right at the surface. We stayed together in the quiet hall, motionless and companionable. One thing to note: I guess this makes Fishbone have multiple voices.