Museum
She stands still all day long on her wooden pedestal, arms outstretched and palms revealed. She never seems to move. Her clear plastic skin glistens and shines, electric lights like ruby jewels, seem to pulsate to suggest blood moving around her visible veins, under her pale rib cage, her heart beats a rhythm and her stance frozen.
Little children smile and laugh at her, poking her hard skin with sugar-sticky fingers, and asking their mum’s what that thing was inside.
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At night when all the people have gone home to be, the transparent woman shifts off her wooden pedestal and goes to visit the animal hall, where she opens up the glass-vitrine cadges and dioramas. The birds clamber out onto the mosaic floors, clattering their fine sharp claws and stretch their wings to fly around the glass dome ceiling. She pets the lions and cats, they purr and growl. The elephant lifts up it’s trunk and flushed water towards the small monkeys climbing the chandeliers.
The transparent woman watched the clock and packs the animals back into their glass cadges by 06:45am, when Mr Ryan the night watch man wakes up.
He looks up to the transparent woman with shiny jewel brown eyes, crowned with grey and she smiles, then he smiles too.
