Most men would decorate their office walls with certificates, diplomas, and photographs of their families. But there, directly opposite my chair, Gifford had hung a mirror.
Inside the yellow oak frame, I could see the shimmering reflection of his fax machine and his brass desk lamp. Even the back of Gifford's balding head glimmered in the lower corner of the mirror.
Indeed, this mirror (just like the mirrors in the changing room at Porgett's) reflected every person and every object in the room except for me. Gifford had placed it there for this very reason.
I faced him with a glower. "How dare you."