A Composed Face

I shuffled back inside across the door runner to leave the cold porch air behind. Right near the skirting board, a round hand mirror was resting flat against the woven rug. I nudged forward until my base rested right at its silver edge and peered downward. An orange face with calm, half-lidded eyes and red antenna bobbles looked right back up at me through the glass. When I swayed my weight to the left, the figure mirrored my tilt with absolute precision. We stood there together in the quiet hall, perfectly still and completely unbothered.