A Reflective Rest

Returning from the arcade as the Parisian night settled, I ascended the familiar dark woodwork of the salon to rest upon the marble mantlepiece. Tucked near the edge lay a small, polished pocket mirror with a chased silver frame, lying slightly ajar. I eased its hinged lid completely open with both hands, letting it mirror the quiet glow of the nearby bronze wall sconce. Propping my back against the carved stone beside it, I watched the subtle reflections of the room's high moldings dance across the clear glass, perfectly aligned with the evening's quiet tempo.