His disappearing was an impressive act and only I could see it. I saw him and also what was happening and it was as if someone had taken a giant marker pen and drawn around him. A thick and jagged line that separated him from everything and everyone else and this line was getting bigger and bolder whilst within it he was slowly diminishing.
When he wasn’t there I watched and waited for him. Unable to concentrate I wandered aimlessly around the office, making my way to the windows at the far end, time and again. Gazing down at the busy street below, searching and failing to find him amongst the passers-by.
And suddenly he would reappear. I would glance across at his desk and there he would be, sitting in his chair as if set in stone.
It crossed my mind on more than one occasion that he had been there all along, that he hadn’t moved and like all the others I just hadn’t been able to see him.
One afternoon as I watched him I began to consider seriously that this might be possible and I decided when he next moved, if indeed he did move again, that I would follow him; find out where he went and what he did.
I became aware that there was a flurry of activity over at his desk and he was at its centre. He had one of the drawers open and, delving in, he pulled something out and lay it on top.
For a moment I thought he was readying for work and once again I was disappointed. But why? What exactly had I been expecting him to do? Well, evidently it wasn’t that I expected him to start afresh, to simply come back as if nothing had happened.
But he wasn’t beginning again and now everyone was watching him, witnessing the disruption of his desk as he removed everything from inside and placed it on the outside.
I moved a little closer and could see most of these items. And they were an almost perfect mirror image of the contents of my own.
Collage by Christine Renney