The Conjuring

He sat alone, inside his own bubble of quiet, indifferent to the scurrying sounds, the muted bustle of people huddled around their departure gates. I thought him rather overdressed for the weather looking busy with something I couldn't see what, reminding me of a madman who couldn't remember his own fantasies, Watching him idly felt like invading his privacy but I had nothing else to do or too bored to walk away. I could think of a thousand rationalizations why I continued to do nothing but watch him with my eyes closed, forcing myself to appear unconcerned. If someone was watching me, I must have seemed conspicuous in my concentration perhaps emanating an air of mystery. I would not expect this observer, if any, to know I was trying to unveil the stranger in my mind like a conjurer on stage. Because I was watching him without seeming to be obvious about it, I felt everyone else was watching me too. I open my eyes surreptitiously so as to catch someone who might be watching me too. But no, everyone was merely absorbed and lost in their own worlds, waiting for the call to board a plane. I was safe, drifting into mystic time, immobile but alert, hiding in my own capsule, in plain sight. @jjote 08152015