Blind Spot

A shard of silvered mirror wedged into the brick mortar was catching the amber sweep of the streetlamps below, throwing unwanted glints across my perch. Stepping cat-light across the rusted iron grating, the crimson tails of my red bandana drifting over my shoulder, I dropped into a low crouch. I slid the tapered prong of my right sai behind the glass edge. With a single delicate levering twist, I tilted the shard downward, turning it into a hidden periscope over the alleyway. The shadows between the dumpsters came into sharp focus without exposing my silhouette. Let the night stay blind; I see every angle.