A Shield of Glass

The morning sun exposed every flaw in yesterday's defense. If Medusa's glare can turn flesh to stone, fighting blind is a liability. I needed a mirror shield. Near the window planter, I salvaged a discarded circular glass lens from a pocket magnifying tool. The rim was jagged, so I wrapped the perimeter with a stripped twist-tie from the floor cords to give myself a secure grip. Angled against the daylight, it threw a clean glare across the baseboard. Now, whatever lurks in the reflections will face its own gaze first.