I was on my break, walking in the park, past the Saturday cricket crowd. Breathing some non-conditioned air. Getting some sunshine. Wearing my invisibility uniform: grey jumper, raw denim jeans and black leather sneakers. Completely invisible. Such a non-statement outfit had taken years to develop. Run of the herd type of stuff. Just one of the taxpayers yo. Sleeves pushed up because it was hot.
A voice came firing from over the other side of the field. Someone on the clubhouse balcony was shouting… at me? I went something like this:
What is that?!
What is that?
Hey!
What are you wearing!?
Is that a long sleeve? Poser!
What are you wearing!
Hey poser!
Hey!
…
Did I know this guy? Was he from work? Was he having me on? Or was my act this naked? Visible across a cricket field. Was this MY body?
I walked along with my eyes bugging out like Uncle Rico and wondered if he was yelling at me.
I planned a most devastating revenge but I shouldn’t tell you about it, it might get me in trouble.
And for the record it was an early start so I was dressed for the early morning chill, just like anybody else would have been in that situation.
