Maria G. Gendy

When I Died … The truck is coming. I never thought I could see a truck so closely. I knew it was coming and I knew it was the end. But there was nothing I could do. That’s it. That’s how I died. Yeah, I’ve seen— Wait, I should say “I’d seen!” Guess it’ll take time for me to figure it out, what happened and what will happen now. Anyway, I’d seen it a lot in movies before, you know. The guy who got killed in a car crash by the doing of a truck. Maybe the driver was drunk. Maybe he was on the phone, talking to some … person. Maybe he was searching for some can of Cola that fell off while sipping it. Ah, what do I care? I’m DEAD! Do you hear me? DEAD! But … I don’t feel dead, not really. Is that how it feels? I mean, I’m still wearing the same beige blazer and blue jeans. I can still smell my perfume, the one I got as a present in … I can’t even remember! It was probably one of my sister’s desperate trials to make me love life. Yes, h...

They can see me. I have tried my entire life to be invisible, but people still seem to see me. It’s a curse. I just want to walk among them unseen, unheard, unfelt, to just make my way through without trouble. I don’t want the burden of bidding someone a good morning. I don’t want to be asked how I’m doing by someone who’s not my friend enough to know on their own. I don’t want to discuss the weather. God, the torture. Do you know how hard it is for me? I want to reach the photocopying machine to get some papers for my manager. But the machine lies right before someone’s desk. On the way, I will be the only one walking; everyone else will be seated. My footsteps will be heard. People might look up from their work to see who’s disrupting the quiet. They may judge my clothes. Maybe I smell. Maybe they’ll think I’m too loud. Worse, they may nod or try to initiate conversation. Someone might say hi, and then I’ll have to say hi back, but my voice will be too low, and I’ll...

I’ve been working for the same company for about a year and nine months now. I love it there, truly. I think it’s the best place I’ve worked, and I really do love my team. One of the things I learned about myself during that period of time I worked there—and it may sound weird after the kind of introduction I just gave—is that it’s very hard for me to feel hot. I came to realize and appreciate this because half the team liked the AC very, very high, and the rest of us would be sitting at our desks with our jackets and shawls in the middle of July. It’s crazy. But it made me love the sun more than ever. I feel grateful for the sun. I follow it when I’m on the bus. My curtains are always open. I don’t mind the heat if there’s sunlight. People on the bus probably hate me for it, but … sitting there with songs in my ears and the sun bathing me in its light is just … otherworldly. It makes me appreciate nature. It makes me appreciate life. It brings...