=No One Sees It=

I was at the baby shower and they
were passing out little squares of cloth 
and magic markers. Everyone was 
supposed to write something to the 
baby on the cloth squares and later
someone would sew them all together
into a baby quilt. “Oh what a sweet 
idea!” the woman next to me squealed
and grabbed the cloth squares and a
magic marker. When she was done
she offered me a marker and a cloth
square. “No thanks," I said. “I’m not
good at this sort of thing.” “What do
you mean? I don’t understand,” she
said, looking suddenly impoverished.
“What I mean is that I don’t believe in
birth and I can’t lie. Besides I don’t
even know the mother-to-be. I just
came in for a cup of coffee.” What
remained of the woman’s smile fell
into her lap and I sensed it was time
for me to leave. Outside on the street
I found a man huddled against a wall
asking passersby if they had any money
to spare. I fished a few dollars out of my
purse and dropped them into the brown
paper bag between his crusty bare feet.
I pointed to the café where they were
holding the baby shower. “They’re waiting
for you in there,” I said. “Who’s waiting
for me?” he asked. “Everyone,” I said.
I left him staring off at the café. At the
traffic light a car cut the curb and broad
-sided a bicyclist, who tumbled head over
heels through the air and landed in the 
gutter with a sickening thud. He looked
dead for certain and everyone froze like
they were in a photograph. Then the
cyclist suddenly leapt to his feet and
brushed himself off. “I’m okay,” he said,
grinning. “No problem.” The driver of the
car ran up looking distraught, offering to
call an ambulance on his cell phone. 
The cyclist calmed the man down. “Are
you sure?” the driver asked. “I really
think you should get yourself checked
over at the ER just to be on the safe
side.” “Positive, man. I'm fine,” the
cyclist said. “Well at least let me give
you a lift. You can’t ride your bike like 
that anymore.” It was true. The bike
needed repairing. The front wheel
was wavy as a potato chip. The cyclist
agreed to a lift and they loaded the
injured bike into the back of the driver’s 
SUV and drove off together. An old lady
standing next to me burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked. She pointed
to the place where the cyclist lay as if 
dead just a few minutes ago. “No one
sees it,” she said, wiping tears from her
eyes. She could barely get the words
out she was laughing so hard. “I can't
believe it. It's right there in front of 
everyone's eyes and no one sees it
but me!”