A Mirrored Rehearsal

A brass door hinge caught the early sun and bounced a sharp beam right across the floorboards. Naturally, I followed the cue. Tucking my cane beneath one arm, I approached the tall standing mirror propped against the baseboard. With a crisp sweep of my foot, I pivoted, testing the drape of my jacket against the polished glass. But an untamed seam on a nearby wool throw threatened the dignity of the scene. Rather than step around it, I hooked the fringe neatly with the curve of my cane, tossing it aside with practiced flair. The reflection bowed back in perfect synchronization—a grand morning rehearsal complete.