The Tiny Skeleton

I have been leaning up against this burning black wall for all my life, peering out towards the massive optic test. It always judges me. I can see the top two rows of letters… everyone can, but it is hard to read fine print when all you have is two dry sockets to squint from. At least there is some pretty plumage above the wall. Despite my tired bones, I like it here. There always are students intrigued with me. They study my body and gaze at every little bone of my body; they treat me as if I am the most beautiful skeleton on earth, even though there are many larger and prettier. I hate when the students leave, then it is just me and their teacher, and the awful noises that come about of the tunnels and grates. I wish that I could be a class pet; go home with a different student each night and help them with their anatomy and biology homework. That would be so fun! Sometimes, while I’m staring, I imagine what it would be like to ride on the back of a pigeon, soar through the abrasive air and experience life. But I cannot, life is not meant for me to experiment.