3 a : of or relating to the common people : plebeian
b : generally current : public
c : of the usual, typical, or ordinary kind
And this weeks repsonse is this:
“To hide effectively one must hide in plain sight.”
I remembered my father’s teachings now, as I stood unadorned in the market place.
I was anyone in any crowd; a woman merely browsing stalls of over priced scraps. Pastel clothing, skin and colouring. I was uneventful, unmemorable, unrecognisable as intended. Only the man who knew the blue of my eyes and the bittersweet of a final kiss would pick me out, yet he must not.
In the moments, days, since he had presented me with his back, let me leave; against his morals, his teachings and the demands of his badge, I had kept within a raised voice of his portentous presence. I was his protector and I lingered undetected; I had been raised too well to be revealed.
“Find your mark, become his scenery, let him see you,
empty space reveals far more than an overflowing glance.”
So I watched his life, the vulgar repetition and lack of spectrum that came from all that was commonplace. Before our precarious sport of cat and mouse his life had found its well worn trail and deviated little. I cursed my influence, my perplexing existence and its interference to his.
I cursed more the need I felt, the urge to exchange that raised voice for a whisper. My life was a culmination of violence, exile, deception and the outlandish circumstances of a gun for hire. I had known nothing else until I had known him, had needed nothing and felt nothing.
Now, like my broad reluctant saving enforcer, I had a resurfacing soul. I was suddenly conscious of my conscience. He had taken my hand and stamped me with a hidden ultraviolet marker. Some imaginary bolded font that read NOW TYPICAL.
“It is not your aim that makes you sought
but your ability to barricade your compassion.”
Clearly my father, in his forty years of bullion standard butchery, had never been in love.
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