Sliding into Obscurity, Two Feet At a Time

Do You Understand Me Now?

She walked into the room like she owned the joint.

Long legs, high heels, big hair.

Looked around to see who was there. She always looked around first.

Then she spotted a place. Checked her reflection in the window. Walked quickly and confidently over the table.

And plopped herself down.

Waited there. Watching. Biding her time.

Not anxious. Not eager. Disinterested, but eyes always on the door.

Always aware of who came in. And who went out.

She'd say later it was a skill of hers. A constant awareness without seeming to look.

And people approached, but she'd wave them off before they could even say anything.

Back then it worked. Back then, they were interested. Back then, invisibility was something she had to work hard to achieve.

These days, it's different. The awareness is still there.

But there's no one to wave off.

And yet her eyes keep that same look. Disinterested.

Even though that's no longer how she feels.