A Tinted Filter

Blinding morning sunshine was pouring across the entryway floorboards—a garish, offensive display of celestial optimism. Navigating that blazing glare unassisted would severely compromise my underworld mystique. Fortunately, some careless mortal had abandoned a pair of sleek black sunglasses across the bottom rung of the coat stand. I scaled the timber crossbar and wedged my plush frame directly behind the dark polarized lenses. Instant ambiance. Through the tinted curvature, the harsh daylight was instantly degraded into a deliciously moody, slate-gray twilight. I propped my chin against the bridge of the frame, smirking out at the room. If the mortal world refuses to dim its lights, I simply adjust the broadcast filter.