The Jewish Bride

Just one lingering visitor left; at last Tanya could enter her inner sanctuary. Her eyes met with those of the young bride. Tanya longed to feel like her, held so tenderly by her newly wed husband. “To have and to hold,” she had heard when her friend got married after her second child. Yet it was different for the Jewish bride, her wedding unmarred by any prenuptial engagement. Tanya envied the bride’s sensuality, her voluptuous warmth and how the ornate dress gently draped her feminine frame. The same could not be said of Tanya’s one-size-fits-all uniform.

Secretly though, Tanya was only too glad to wear the standard kit. From behind her facade she dared to look tourists in the eye, even the dashing young men she shied away from on the odd Friday evening when she went with her colleagues for a drink after work. Tanya’s gaze fell upon the bride’s luxuriant red dress with its countless sequins painstakingly woven into the fabric. She tried to imagine herself wearing it. Yet somehow she could not capture the image.

“The museum will close in ten minutes. Please make your way to the exit.” Tanya sighed on hearing the announcement: A sigh of relief that a long and monotonous day was winding down to a close but equally a sigh of dismay. In a few minutes she would have to leave her safe haven and re-enter the impertinent rush of the world outside.

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