A Grille in the Shaft

The dark corner by the hatch had grown still, so I dragged myself toward a rusted ventilation shaft rising from the floor. Heh heh... stuck inside the wire opening was a cracked plastic hand-mirror with no handle. I wedged my heavy forearm beneath its notched rim and pried it upright against the iron frame. Morning light slanting from the high basement window struck the glass, throwing a bright, jagged diamond of white straight down into the black shaft. The deep tunnel swallowed the beam and bounced back a long, hollow sigh of draft. Chuckling low, I tapped the glass to watch the tilted glare dance across the rusted iron ribs.