Angry pupils of a dead master.
Everywhere, at all the places I can find, I see people. People defined by me, is walking meat.
I tend to rely that my art of observation is greater than those around me, which means, basically, that they cannot see me. This is of course hypothetical, and I can't say if it works or not. Though the facts tend to favour neither of the two parties, my vote goes directly to the invisible part.
I was thinking the other day if this experiment of social behaviour could adapt other forms and subjects, except the usual theme of me versus them. Almost as we were sworn enemies, though I don't think anyone would want us in their comic.
Either way, I continued to self explore the possibilites that they were infact NOT seeing my physical form, as I met a girl. The word met already indicates that yes, she saw right through me, though in straight lines, it doesn't prove anything. She was short.
"Mind if I sit next to you?" she said, knowing that my answer will be yes, since I wasn't sitting down at all