Invisibility

         I woke up on that cold, dusty morning and the first thing I realized was that I had somehow, during my nightly travels into dreamland, been turned invisible.
         Oddly enough I wasn't startled. This was not unlikely though, as my thoughts seemed to drift out of my mind as soon as I formed them, leaving only traces of them, like the lingering taste of a strawberry on one's tongue.
         I looked around the room and found it to be rather small and cramped. Every inch of wall space was covered in posters of dark looking men and women. Their eyes yelled out for attention and love, their dark, dark eyes. I got the sense that the occupant of the room found solace in the posters' apparent pain, as he/she felt the same.
         I suddenly perceived that I had to be somewhere. It was as if a reliant dog was tugging on my leg. It wanted something, yet what that something was I couldn't tell. I obliged and let myself drift out of the room and down into the kitchen.
         A woman was standing at the stove when I floated in, pushing some yellow goop around a pan. It sizzled and crackled, and while I couldn't quite smell exactly what it was, a feeling of deja vu was bathing my stomach in its warm familiarity. I glided over to her and there I stood, gazing down into the pan. I let myself look up into her face and had I been able to sustain any sort of emotion, I would have jumped or possibly even yelped. Her hair stuck out in all directions and angles, encircling her face like a spiraling thorn bush. Her eyes had large purple bags under them and there were traces of eyeliner and other make-up products in every crease of her face. And her face did not lack for creases. Her cheeks sagged and there was a deep indentation between her eyebrows from the proverbial frown of her face. I could see no light of youth in her eyes, routine and monotony had clearly burrowed in.
         Suddenly I felt the presence of another human enter the room. I turned and saw a young girl slouch over to a chair and collapse into it. Her tight jeans were ripped at the knees and the bright red t-shirt she wore was cut off below the chest, exposing a pale stomach.
         "Ughhhh," moaned the young girl, a scowl twisting her face, "not YOUR scrambled eggs again..."
         I looked back up into the woman's face and I thought I saw the frown burrow deeper, as if it was encouraged by every unhappiness in her life. She sighed and her slouch deepened.
         By this stage the young girl had taken out a small phone and was busy tapping away on the keypad. I allowed myself to drift over to her. Glancing down at the screen I read the message:
         'U comin out wif us tonite babez? x were gunna get sooo plasterd!'
         A satisfied grin settled itself onto the young girl's red painted lips.
         "I'm going over to Carey's tonight mother!" announced the young girl to the woman at the stove.
         The woman turned indignantly to face the young girl. "You mean to ask if you can, young lady!"
         The young girl tore her eyes away from the reply she was busy typing and said, "Awww, please mooommm?!?" Her voice suddenly took on a sickly tone, "pleaseeeee??" she begged.
         Their eyes met across the room. The woman begging, as the young girl was, however for a completely opposite reason.
         "Fine," said the woman quietly, turning back to the now brown goop in the frying pan. I saw her shoulders slouch still further.
         The young girl smiled to herself and went back to her messages.
         I stood between the young girl and the woman, looking from one to the other.

(more to come, eg. UNDER CONSTRUCTION)