Unseen

I watch him in the mirror. Watch him move about, stopping here and there, touching, looking, looking closely, taking a step back, turning, seeing some other interesting thing. I watch him secretly. Pretending to bring order to bundles of invoices.

I believe he does not notice me watching him in the mirror from the corner of my eye. He moves around in a way that suggests an ignorance to my preoccupation with his person. I am not sure he is aware of my existence. I watch him in the mirror. Watch him take one of the pots in his hands, turn it this way and that, looking closely, not noticing the lid slipping off. His reaction is not quick enough and the lid falls to the floor. Shattering into little pieces.

I can no longer watch him in the mirror. I have to divert my eyes as my insides are mirroring his shame, convulsing, flinching, falling, feeling trapped by the situation similar to a lift going down way to fast. I hope he was too preoccupied to see me wince.

I watch him again in the mirror. Watch him while he turns his head to see if someone saw, someone heard, careful, calculating and almost mischievous. Now I know he does not see me, never noticed my presence. I watch him in the mirror. Watch him put the pot back where it stood before and shove the pieces under the cupboard using his foot, casually, like he has done this many times before. I think about turning around, looking at him properly, not only his reflection.

He has no idea I watch him in the mirror. Watch him turn towards the door, walking proudly, with controlled strides, pulling the door open with a confidence that confuses me deeply. I try to find a voice, but there is none and the door falls close behind him.