They think they’re all so invisible. Ha!
Those tourists and travellers who are just passing through, those businessmen on their important missions and the adulterers who never even make it out of their cars, the staff and the management who think they have anonymous faces, they all think no-one sees them.
I see them all, but they never see me.
I watch them come and go and all the time I remain.
I live here.
None of them have even seen the ghost, but I see him. He walks around, among and through them, and they never even notice.
I am truly the only one who sees it all, and I do it without ever being noticed.
It’s easy. I blend in with the background. Everyone assumes I must live nearby and pop in now and again. But why would I want to live anywhere else? There’s plenty of food in the bins, enough for me to get fat if I really wanted to. There are always puddles to drink from, or what I can get from the tap at the petrol station. For shelter there’s a vent which sticks out at the back of the main building. It sends out a constant stream of hot air and there’s just enough space underneath to hide where it’s always warm and dry, perfect for sleeping.
And sometimes there are treats and surprises. I thought there was one tonight. I was hanging around the side door, seeing what was on offer, when I heard the crash. I could smell the tea as it spread over the floor. I started to run towards it, but there were too many people. There was no way I could stay invisible. Someone kicked me out of the way.
So I did what I always do, I ran back out, headed to my hidey hole and settled down to lick myself clean. I’m sure, in a little while, there will be a bucket of water mixed with tea for me to lap from. And I can always chase one of the mice if I get really bored.
(A previously unpublished part of Braking Distance.)