Are They Talking About Me

She knows nothing Rob says. I hope he is speaking of me. I have never liked him either. I overhear a name. Sadly, he refers to another. She is crazy! May says. I know this must be me. She rolls her blue eyes, nodding toward Sheila. Sheila who wears a tattoo sleeve up her arm. Because she has blue hair? How silly. Their voices get low now. I am sure my co-workers have gotten around to me. Yes, they are probably whispering about me. I am outrageous, I am whimsical. I am childlike, not their condiment of choice. I struggle to get closer to their lunch table. I hear Rob whisper my name. I feel pleased. At last they have gotten around to me. I am now officially one of them. I feel relieved.