A Lesson in Reflection

A strip of morning sunlight struck the brass foot of an upright floor mirror, sending a sharp, blinding beacon across the parquet. It pierced directly into my line of sight as I paced my morning patrol. Halting my stride, I did not turn away. Instead, I stood squarely before the tall, tilted pane, observing my own motionless form and the pale static cradled in my palm. Lowering into a grounded horse stance, I placed my free left hand against the heavy wooden frame and nudged it a measured inch to the side. The searing glare deflected harmlessly onto the sheer white curtain, softening into a warm, diffused luminescence. The chamber breathes once more in calm clarity.