Note: This is written from a prompt in A Writer’s Year 365 Creative Writing Prompts by Emma Bastow. “You have the power to become invisible, but only for an hour a day. How do you spend that hour?”

What would I do if, for an hour a day, I could go unnoticed, unseen? If I could be completely invisible? On bright fall days where the sun breaks through stratified clouds and Jack-O-Lanterns smile, would their grins stir the playful mischief in my eyes?

If I heard shouting aimed at a child for nothing warranted, would I write a note to slip in their hand saying they are wonderful the way they are, and I was sorry that life is sometimes painful?

Could I eavesdrop near simmering soups in the kitchen of a restaurant and find out which servers were having horrible days and leave some extra cash on their tables? Would I be tempted to venture to the table of the person who hunched over, hiding behind their dropped shoulders, heavy from the weight of years of waiting for change, and knock a drink into the lap belonging to the mouth full of hateful words?

Could I explore abandoned buildings and imagine memories long forgotten and the lives of those who existed there? Climb above rooftops to the edge of a tower and take in the view? Breathe deep the air that I now blend into?

Would I finally shake cold cans of spray paint and leave my mark on the city and my bucket list with a swipe of cerulean and silver or oranges or reds? Bright purples and deep chocolatey browns? Emerald green?

What would it be like to walk through mazes of headstones next to visitors carrying more than flowers and drop feathers or coins nearby for them to discover?

Would I finally be able to see if the dogs whose barks echo at midnight through the streets that wrap around my house are being cared for or forgotten?

Which days would going unnoticed be a gift? Which days would witness it as a curse? Would using it every day diminish it or make it something to be resented? Or would it make life fuller? Would something monotonous, watching tv or doing dishes in the hour where features fade away, feel immoral for wasting something so precious?

Often, being unseen has caused my heart to drop within me. But would it if I wasn’t there to see?