Was there more to life then getting up and going to work and coming back home at the end of the day and sitting around for a couple of hours and going back out and doing it all over again?
Darlene Murphy used to hope there would be a break in that dull routine, just one little crack that would allow her to break out and escape and maybe see a little more, do something extra like get her nails done or maybe stop off at that bakery and try one of those cupcakes that had a small strip of candied bacon on the top.
It never happened though- not for Darlene Murphy who spent her nights working to make ends meet and to keep body and soul together just so she could do it all over again the next day.
Something had to change and on a Saturday it did.
On that evening on her way to work, she stopped by the closed for the evening art gallery on third and pressed her face up against the glass.
Ghostly sculptures haunted the dimly lit gallery and Darlene, who didn’t like sculptures of any kind found herself not hating these.
These sculptures were marble- twisted and tortured until they were forced into delicate forms that hinted at the human shape. The act of creating these figures must have been brutal.
Darlene could appreciate that. She understood it.
She held her pale hands up to her face. ” If you could talk ” she told them ” I’d be a dead woman.”
Darlene put her hands down and said to the spot in the window where her reflection should have been, ” Again.”