The mystery floats ahead, until I catch up.

What a week of mistakes, national headlines, empty seats that make a dictator mad and the memories of washed away dreams carving the lines of the shore.

Neglected and wet with fever, the carousal of spirits to help mandate what’s to come next falls short of what it means to be truly emphasized.

Sitting down and drowning in the whispers around me, there is a sense of dismay and unearthed excitement.

I am a star.

Yet, the eyes that dart away when I search them water mine as the breeze of their dismal prove that I have been targeted.

Viral news travels fast. The speed of a bullet train runs for the curve and stays intact without a dip, but the pace of clicks and uploaded menus of cultivated fare will never allow the dust to settle.

The bathroom stalls are full. I stand waiting patiently, listening to the moans of the toilet bowl. Once there is vacancy, I proudly walk in and stand listening. I pretend to flush and stand and listen some more.

My name is never mentioned. My time is up.

I escape to the cafeteria. The soup line is hot and heavy. I pour my cup and smile as the task continues and then ends.

I drop the bowl on purpose and splash myself with embarrassment.

All eyes on me as the heat replaces the spinach and salmon confection seeping into the floors.

I think I’m paranoid.