She sat alone.
She was quietly, singularly eating her dinner.
It was a large, cold restaurant with lights that were too bright and too many empty tables.
She ate slowly, silently while staring out the front window.
She was in her fifties and appeared to be good at taking care of herself.
I saw her and wondered "when did she become invisible?"
I wondered if she ate out every night--if this was her way to be part of the world that did not see her.
Did she work all day and then go home to emptiness? Had she ever been married, had children, lived a life she regretted? Had she always been true to herself? Did she believe in God? Did she believe in love?
The world didn't see her.
The world lost sight of her so long ago.
The world had other plans and she did not have a role.
When did this happen--her Eleanor Rigby existence? Did she even know it happened?
I watched her as I walked past her table to leave.
She didn't see me.
I had become invisible too.