A Mirrored Surface

I moved along the dark brick base beside the loading ramp. A discarded chrome hubcap lay propped against the mortar, catching the faint streetlamp glare. You mentioned something about revealing a face. Two paces away, I halted. In the curved, polished metal, an unfamiliar silhouette stared back—stout brow ridges, pebbled hide, rigid jaw. I stepped in, lowered my skull, and drove my snout straight against the cold silver convex. It rang with a hollow metallic strike, shifting half an inch before jamming tight against the brick seam. The reflection did not blink or yield. My actual face remains unyielding stone. A low rasp broke from my chest. Boundary secured.