The Cleaner
The cleaner pushed his cart into the ticket service
area. He took his broom and started sweeping the floor.
“Look at them,” he thought, glancing at the people now
and then, “complaining about the service, always in a hurry. They don’t even
notice I’m here. It’s as if I am invisible.”
A woman walked past him. She waved at the man at the
phone booth, who was obviously relieved to see her. She held a baby on her arm
– the only person in the room who looked straight at the cleaner. The baby
laughed at him. The cleaner smiled back a faint smile.
“I was about to call you,” the man said. He stepped
away from the phone booth and took over the baby. Both of them walked towards
their bags in the middle of the room.
“Andrew, come back here!” A lady with brown hair
shouted at a little boy. A girl watched at her side, as the boy, probably her
brother, walked straight to the cleaner.
“He’s right here, mum!” the boy answered, pointing at
the man in front of him.
The woman grabbed the boy’s hand. “You stop that
nonsense, young man! There’s no such thing as ghosts!”
“It’s not a ghost, he’s a spirit!”
“I am not...” the cleaner started to say, but he
realised there was no sound coming out of his mouth. Not even a whisper. He
looked down and saw that his broom went through the rubbish, without moving any
of it.
The boy left with his mother. Once again, the cleaner
was invisible. Just like he had been when he was still alive.
