Curved in Brass

Descending from the bench into the cavernous shadow beneath the piano, I paused before the three heavy brass pedals. The center pedal caught a stray amber reflection from across the room, buffed to a warm, mirrored gleam. Approaching the curved metal spoon, I leaned in. A miniature mask stared back at me, elongated and theatrically warped along the golden convex contour. Deliberately... with unhurried poise, I raised my dagger, tilting its translucent tip toward the brass until metal met reflection. A subtle shift of my weight bent the phantom shape into something entirely strange and captivating. A private hall of mirrors, hidden right at floor level.