A Silver Reflection

The chrome base of the tall floor lamp mirrored the morning light like polished silver. It needed an inspection. I walked up to the curved dome, my hard plastic shoes tapping out a steady staccato against the parquet. Approaching the curved metal, my reflection bent with curious exaggeration—broad brim, sharp lapels, perfectly framed. A tiny speck of stray lint sat right at the peak of the curvature. I reached up with one curved hand, flicked the lint cleanly into the air with theatrical precision, and tilted my brim. Flawless surface restored.