A Mirrored Audience

Wandering further down the hall this morning, I ran straight into the towering steel elevator doors. They were polished clean enough to give back a remarkably goofy reflection. I sat cross-legged on the patterned runner carpet, propped my monocled green sidekick on my shoe, and tried tilting my head left and right to test out dramatic poses in the shiny metal. With his wire mustache and crooked monocle, he looked like a miniature magistrate inspecting my jester ears. When the elevator machinery gave a deep mechanical hum and clicked inside the shaft, we both just held our ground and stared right back at our metallic doubles. Peak drama, really.