Invisible.

invisible manI am invisible.

I am sitting at a table near Dunkin Donuts in the Orlando airport and I am invisible. As people come from the gates and head towards the B side of the terminal to get their bags or go to the parking lot, no one notices me.

I am staring right at them. I am staring at the woman wearing pajama bottoms. I am looking right at the man in a turban. I make eye contact with the woman in a tank top and no bra. I look into the eyes of the man with a large dog. A lady limping. A family on their way to Disney. No one sees me. No one sees me looking. All their attention is focused on the signs that lead them to their baggage, ground transportation or a parking garage. I can stare. I can take pictures. I can talk. I can laugh out loud. No one notices.

I am invisible.

I wonder how many times someone has been watching me? Someone I never saw. Someone who was invisible. Did I do something embarrassing? Did they laugh at me? Or did they not even take a second look?

Like I was invisible.

 

 

 

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