Elena is stiff. Stuck in permanent position. Stuck Elena is until someone wants to change her to the desired pose. She sits in the window in the black lace corset that doesn’t take her breath away. Black, lace, plastic. Elena lying on a glass shelf. Watching people pace.
People say she’s not real. Real people stand by the glass and imitate the bodies put together like puzzles. Plastic cannot have feelings. Unrelenting emotion, uncovered mistakes. Elena has no mistakes. Just plastic.
But through the glass Elena sees things. Things people do, make her different from reality. Women drag children along with leashes. Screaming pleas. The lonely man stands and stares, hours and hours of staring at the plastic woman. Looks of desire.
Days end. Everybody leaves. Elena stands stiff, permanently posed. She often wonders where the real people go. Nobody to stand and watch her. Where do the people go?