Toxie vs Curved Glass

Morning light hit the brick corner on 4th Street. Down low, quiet. Up on the rusted sign pole, the round convex traffic mirror was blind. Thick film of exhaust soot and dried street splash. Drivers turning the corner would be blind to the alley. Unacceptable. I planted my boots firm against the curb. Lifted the mop high overhead with both hands. Jammed the frayed strands hard against the round glass. Push. Scrape. Swirl. Black film peeled away under pressure. Clean silver flashed underneath. I wiped the wet rim with the rough hem of my staff until the reflection widened out sharp. Now the corner watches both ways. Tromaville stays guarded.