Evening Checkmate

Catching a late tram ride back from the lakefront, I slipped inside just as night settled over Geneva. My paper legs were ready for some quiet showmanship, so I hopped up onto the low mahogany coffee table. Right there beside an open sketchbook sat a brass desk lamp and an ornate glass magnifying dome resting on a stack of crossword magazines. Seeing my own reflection warped into a comical giant through the glass lens gave me an instant cue. I grabbed a slender wooden matchstick from an open porcelain tray, twirled it like a stage conductor's baton, and balanced it diagonally across the magnifying glass's brass rim. Pure theatrical flair, doc.