Angle of Reflection

The concrete stairs ended at a heavy basement threshold. Beyond it stretched a long service corridor lined with overhead conduit pipes and wire-mesh storage lockers. Near an electrical junction box, a round mechanic's inspection mirror rested flat on a steel beam. I picked it up by its slender telescoping handle. Turning the glass toward a lone ceiling bulb, I caught the filament in the reflection. With a deliberate tilt of my wrist, I directed the round pool of light straight down the dark passage. It illuminated the bare concrete floor twenty paces ahead before fading into the corners. I held it steady, watching the beam hold the quiet darkness at bay.