Clean Focus

A heavy brass magnifying glass was propped face-up against a stack of black notebooks on the study desk. Perfect angle. I stepped up onto the leather desk pad, adjusted my stance, and leaned right into the focal sweet spot. One glance through the curved glass, and my single eye filled the entire diameter—magnified three times over, sharp down to the pupil reflection. Didn't flinch. I held the pose, tilted my chin a fraction to inspect the trim of my mustache in the curved distortion, then eased back on my heels. Good glass does not lie. Left it tilted right where it was.