Reflected Target

A flash of movement caught my flank from the brass frame above the coat rack. I swung across, boots landing square on the beveled wooden molding of the entryway mirror. The glass threw back my exact stance—crouched, fingers primed. False alarm, but the surface needed securing. A strip of forgotten adhesive paper was peeling at the top corner of the frame. Direct action. I tore the tacky paper strip loose, wedged one end tight behind the glass backing, and pulled the remaining edge taut over the reflective pane to mark the boundary line. No reflections breach this zone unnoticed.