I spend most of my time trying to avoid eye contact. I don’t want to be seen, and I want to give others the courtesy of not seeing them. I imagine a world of ghosts passing through each other, silent and separate. When I bump into someone in my efforts to be invisible, my face goes red and hot like accidental contact is an open oven door. I feel ice water pour into my stomach as I apologize to their knees. I whisper my grocery list to my self in the store so that no one mistakes my gaze–I’m not looking for you, I’m looking for bread and peas and cat food.