Invisible

Writer's Ink assignment for November:

First piece to be prose of 100 - 150 words 

(mine is 159)

Then shortened to one sentence

Finally shortened to a Haiku

'Invisible' in three parts

Walking in dense fog, I was cautious. Street lights showed only halos of grey white mist.  My feet quietly scuffed through thickly layered sidewalks. I knew that driving would be slow, with hope that there weren’t too many cyclists on the early morning ‘get to work’ roads. And, if there were, that all were suitably dressed and lit up so this passing motorist did not injure them. In my car, I had some control and could move at a pace dictated by fog and my practiced ability to steer my little blue vehicle.

Once at work, with many generations of staff behind the desk, I felt that the fog had not really been left behind. My words, my phrases and much that I had learned through life experience vanished in the same manner as my feet clouded in soft damp fog. My feet were very real. I could feel each step. But my feet were invisible inside their shoes.

*****

Fog, dense and mysterious, swirled through dark morning streets following me into multigenerations of colleagues; youth that couldn’t hear or see me.

*****

Swirling, dense, cold and damp             

fog trailed me into work.

Mature feet lost to younger.

“I suspect the older you get the more invisible you become.”

~ Nick Cave