For Want of a Nail

I’m invisible, but I see you all right. See your white pasty faces glancing¬†through the windows of the fancy restaurant or the luxury car,¬† glancing away, your eyes sliding past me like a dead squirrel or raccoon on the roadside.

Maybe sometimes you wonder what it would be like to lose everything. What would you miss most? Scented soap? Your pillow?

How about sleeping in safety, or shoes that don’t leak?

An escape from the gnawing hunger that waits at the end of every hour?

You look away, not wanting the reminder of just how good you have it.

Friday Fictioneers