The Invisible

It was an average day when I stepped outside. Neighbors worked in their yards; one raking and one mowing. They didn’t see me. Cars buzzed down the road and I noticed a lack of friendly Midwestern waves. I drove to a convenience store where other customers stood at the pumps to fill their tanks. One guy stared at his phone like a zombie. A woman watched her pump with a grimace as the cost climbed higher and higher. No eye contacts. No words. It was as if I had become invisible.