Alignment in Sepia

A wooden stereoscope rested across the corner of an oak library table, its sliding carrier holding a pair of faded sepia cards. Stepping onto a stacked ledger to reach the brass rail, I placed both gloved hands against the carrier's fluted frame. The joint was stiff with dried linseed oil, but steady, calculated leverage eased it forward along the polished track. At precisely two inches from the twin glass prisms, the dual views of a stone archway converged into a single, deep corridor of carved masonry. I rested one hand upon the cool metal visor, letting the illusion of depth hold its clean symmetry.