The Dean caught me in the hallway.

He’s bald and has one leg—

a hell of a nice guy.

“How are you doing today?” He asked.

“Good,” I said. “I got a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh—that makes a difference,” he smiled.

“And fresh air—I play 9 holes after work.”

That made him jealous. “I get to spend time in the fresh air during lunches,” he said. “It’s better than being couped-up in an office all day.”

“Hey—that happens to me,” I admitted.

He smirked.

“Have a nice day.”

“Same to you.”

I made copies. Then the school counselor walked by.

“How are you doing?” She asked.

“Good,” I said.

This is coming from the woman who screamed at me last week.

“I’m just doing ridiculous tasks.”

“Ridiculous tasks?” She asked.

“I could use other words.”

She laughed.

I observed one of the history teachers sitting down with the principal. He was nodding, and hanging onto every word of instructional advice.

I thought about that,

and then went back to my office,

sat in silence,

and smiled.

They don’t know how freeing it is,

to go unnoticed.


4 thoughts on “The Art of Invisibility

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