Night monsters

It is dark and cold outside but in a windowless room in Edinburgh there is work to be done. The smell of petroleum ether and araldite glue mix in the air along with shortbread and tea. I work on my slides, polishing and grinding until they shine and the coloured specks of ash from the volcanoes of Iceland glow like specks of gold. The air conditioning monsters growl and I play bellydance music to chase them away. They go. Perhaps they can try a little shimmy in their corner.

There are shadows outside waiting for me to join them and walk, head held high between pools of lamp light back to the homely warmth of my rented room. Plastic bags russling in the wind wait too, drifting along the pavement. They will follow me home, try to tempt me towards one glance back. What was that shadow, that noise?

Back to work, tea and shortbread and all monsters and shadows and plastic bags can wait, their time will come before bed. They have a ten minute slot as I walk to try their best. It's not long enough to get me.