Anonymity

Her fingernails are all cracked and chipped; her nervousness peeling away the skin at the sides.  She sits on a park bench in the middle of a busy street, yet her pain seems invisible to those who just pass her by.  I see her rocking back and forth. I watch her closely as she mutters to herself under her breath. She looks too young to have such a hard worn face.  She has victim written across her forehead in plain language for all too see.  No knight in shining armour comes to rescue her.  All the knights are on strike, waiting for better pay cuts or for prettier princesses to rescue.  The charming knights all line up outside night clubs to rescue the pretty dolled up princesses for just one night, before they dump them out on the side walk for the next knight to come.

I walk in closer, watching her for a sign of life.  There is none. She doesn’t even seem to realise so many people are around her.  There is a shop on the corner a few metres up that could prove useful.  I come back with a chocolate bar and a cup of tea and sit down on her park bench offering them up in front of her.  It takes her a few moments to even notice her surroundings have been altered.  She shakes her head a few times.  It’s almost like she’s shaking herself back into reality.  She looks up at me, surprised and distrusting.  I keep my offer in front of her and show only kindness in my face.  Gradually she takes them.  Her body language becomes closed again as she hoards her precious items close to her.  I smile, lean closer to her and whisper ‘same time tomorrow’ before disappearing into the crowd to continue my day as an anonymous person.