A Matter of Proper Reflection

Morning demands a critical assessment of one’s elegance, so I undertook the exhausting crawl across the polished oak sideboard. My objective was an antique silver compact mirror, left carelessly unclasped. Hooking two claws beneath the cool filigreed rim, I levered the lid open with immense, theatrical dignity. There I was: immaculate fur, devastating poise, entirely unbothered by the trivial rush of morning. Satisfied that my grandeur remains completely uncompromised, I rested my chin directly against the beveled glass edge. Perfection achieved, with hours of required rest ahead.