Legs no one was born with.
A runway show at night in a bare concrete hall — spectral beams, haze, a crowd of raised phones — and the models are robots: three house designs, each with legs longer than any human’s. Five frames from one show — the step through the curtain, the walk under the beams, and the curtsy at the end of the runway.
One cast held across the set: Rose in black gloss and a silver mirror-mesh mini; Jenny in black lacquer with rose-gold joints, in sculpted white satin with built-up shoulders; Emma in white gloss and steel rings, with lights under her skin. Two frames are widescreen, three are portraits; nothing in the hall carries a name.
Curtain aside. First step. Every phone comes up.
No face to read. Everything is in the lights.
One look at the far wall, and the far wall lights up.
Halfway down, she switches on.
End of the runway. A curtsy, and a red line across the room.