Partially invisible, is her, sitting in her sphere, in a small office, trying to keep herself occupied, while footsteps sprinkle around her, reminding her of the purpose missing from her, a ring of a phone and the sound of the receiver being picked up, the rustling of papers, the sound of someone muttering something deep in work, the distinct sound of fingers pressing keyboards typing a line of importance, the sound of someone in the pantry, making a cup of coffee, stirring the mixture, a power booster, back to work, a blue shirt passing in front of her small cubicle, visible in her sight as she train her eyes on the screen of her desktop, legs starting to cramp, sat for too long with no work to do, a voice calling someone, the beeping sound of the printer, creaking out papers, a door opened, more voices, request, discussions, the doorbell rings a melody, greetings exchanged as the cleaner enters, “Assalamualaikum” she greets, and the intern sits, listens, reads, types, sits, wondering if she is partially invisible, and if it is possible to be fully invisible because then she can at least take a much needed nap which no one can blame her for taking, then the clock strikes five and a voice chimes “Taknak balik ke Maryam?”, the chime of freedom, suddenly, like cinderella who loses her magic at midnight, the intern's magic fades at 5, now, no longer partially invisible, she gathers her stuff and inhale the welcoming air of being a fully visible, functional human and takes firm strides filled with purpose, towards the door, out into the cool post-rain air, now, she lives, I live.
