Observing Ana


Observation is a curios thing. For some, it is a talent; natural from the day they first breathed. For others, it's a skill learned; a work in progress.


To Ana, it's a bittersweet curse.


At first glance, she'd seem an average teenager; brown hair, green eyes. Ear-phones dangling from a faded jacket, smiles lighting up her face.


When viewed in the sway of life though, you'd see someone different. Overly shy, quiet, standing on the sideline like an extra in a movie. Always watching, observing.


Ana could tell you anyone's name, what they had for breakfast, if they'd finished that day's math.

Yet, if you asked someone about her, most would have no clue who she was.

Ana might have faded away that school year.


But I observed the observer.

The End

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