The Faceless Ones

Something else is unsettling me, besides the people around me who act so normal considering they lack faces.

It takes me a long time to figure out it's because they look familiar. Why? Where have I seen them before?

No. That's stupid. I've never seen a single faceless person before in my life. How could any of them seem familiar?

Maybe it's the clothes, then. The further go from the flat the more it seems that nobody appears to agree on what century it is, let alone what year.

It's stupid, but I mentally latch on to a man dressed in a grand but dated blue tunic. He has a sword belted at his waist, and he walks with an arrogant swagger. He doesn't seem to attract any stares, but it's tricky to tell when you can't see anyone's eyes.

He stands out for more than the bizarre costume. There's the hint of cheekbones there, and while it's still blurry, he's got a dimpled chin you could break rocks on.

I can't see how he doesn't attract more attention, to be honest. He looks absurd walking into a tiny coffee shop. When he shifts his weight in the queue, the sword clanks.

He catches sight of me out of the corner of his eye, and startles, recognition in every line of his stance. He bows, and moves aside, urging me to go in front of him.

How does he know me? Or maybe he doesn't. Could be people with actual faces get treated better than royalty?

l order a flat white, and the barista stammers, and refuses my money.

Perplexed, but quite enjoying my near celebrity status, I find a table that gives me a good view of the place. l enjoy people watching anyway, but I think I'll enjoy it even more when the people I'm watching are watching me, with something like naked admiration the fuzzy blobs they have instead of faces.

There are some real characters. A dashing gentleman in an expensive looking suit is reading a newspaper. A woman in a crisp police officer's uniform orders an artisanal sausage roll. A dark-haired kid walks past the window who looks a bit like me...

Hey! That kid has a face!

He's gone.

A couple of young women dressed like nuns are sharing a croissant and sipping hot chocolate. They both look pretty clearly defined, as well. Not just for royalty then.

I shouldn't stare, but there's something about them. Dragging my eyes away, I glance at others waiting in the queue, or sipping their drinks. It feels like there's an answer here, and I've almost got it. A jigsaw puzzle is going to start making sense any moment now, if I can just turn this piece to fit...

I know these people. All of them. They're mine. I wrote them.

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