The Invisible Man waits patiently, under the street lights that cast circles of solace in the murky darkness. He is wrapped tightly in the coat of some sports team, he knows little about. A scarf, fends the cold from his neck and fills the space beneath his stocking cap. The light changes and he begins to cross the street.
Old, cold limbs take precious moments to carry him across the four lanes that divide the sidewalks. He is ten feet from his destination when the light changes. Traffic charges like an angry bull. He tries to make himself small, the lines on the road a tight rope, as the cars buzz by like angry hornets.
For a moment, he is no longer invisible. He knows this because of the blaring horns and the voice echoing out of a passing Lexus, "Are you stupid!?" His head lowers, seeking refuge in the scarf, like a turtle. An eternity passes, in a few brief seconds, and the traffic has moved on. Taking his time to travel the last expanse to the sidewalk, he continues into the comfort of the shadows, invisible once more.
Watching him cross the road tonight in Hampton, I sat numb, wondering how often I have confused another as an obstacle, nuisance or distraction. A neighbor, teacher, co-worker. What hope to do we have to offer, when we drive on by? What hope do we have when we are the one standing in the road?