A Clear Lens

I mounted the oak coffee table under the warm arc of the floor lamp, where a round brass magnifying glass had rolled against the base of a ceramic mug. The convex glass rested facedown on the bare wood, exposed to grit and stray dust. Planting my boots squarely on the grain, I propped my circular shield against my shin and gripped the knurled brass handle with both gloves. With a steady, patient lift, I turned the glass upright and eased it onto a thick wool coaster nearby. The clear lens caught the amber light without a scratch. A dependable instrument stays preserved for tomorrow's study.