A Circular Shadow

A flat brass washer lay forgotten near the base of the floor lamp. The low bulb overhead cast its shadow into an elongated oval across the floorboards. I crouched, resting my palms against the polished grain to steady my footing. Sliding my fingers beneath the metal rim, I tilted the washer upward by thirty degrees, propping its curved edge against a faint seam in the wood. As the angle shifted, the warped oval contracted, sharpening into an exact, hollow circle of shadow on the floor. I held my posture still, letting the circle rest unbroken in the amber light.