August 27th, 2010

1. The lizard's skin peels away from it's flesh only grudgingly. Not like taking a mammal hide--a few cuts and a strong pull. Every inch of scaley skin must be teased apart with a scalpel blade, and while joints are rounded with incisions and muscles are revealed, the animal is thawing. Thin, watered down blood trickles out of the exposed flesh slowly, and as she turns the animal this way and that (looking for the easiest cut) the fluid smears and soaks the sleeves of her lab coat.

Hours and a skinned iguana later, she takes off the coat. Like so many other things in her life, she seals it in a plastic bag, intending to wash it later, knowing the smell will only get worse with time.
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2. The desks and bookshelves are all rearranged, changed to make room for more. The filing cabinets stubbornly lock themselves, knowing none of the students have The Key.

Hours and several broken pieces of metal reaffirms what she already knew: Brute force *will* get results. The desirability of the results, however, are to be debated.
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3. The vaulted ceilings of the train station echo the sounds of humanity. She eats her humus and carrots (wishing they were fries) and watches Man With Flowers, Hot Asian Guy, and Walks Funny Woman proceed to their destinations (which they can because they didn't miss *their* trains). A man sets a bag down on the bench and pulls out a clarinet. He plays a scant minute of notes at her (at *her* for certain, as he is directly before her and none else are on the bench), then puts the instrument away and leaves the station.

An hour of waiting on a train and a $25 dollar donation to the ACLU later, she thinks the man might be right; maybe she needs more music in her life.