“The power of one, if fearless and focused, is formidable, but the power of many working together is better.”
- Gloria Macapagal Arroyo
In the darkest room in the Gentleman’s Hotel lived a guest whom people whispered never left his room. This was false. No one had ever seen him leave his room because he was invisible. In the dark room, the man stood in the shower scraping off all the dust that clung to his skin, with unscented soap, before shaving off his body hair so that no other dust particles would be caught in his hairs. Once he had finished, the man turned off the water and dried his body. He then reached for the cane without looking for it and climbed out of the bath.
Voltaire walked to the door where he stuck clear pads to the bottoms of his feet, unlocked the door, and closed it behind him. The invisible man and his transparent cane slowly walked through the hall and down the stairs to find that Fable had arrived early. Fable was wandering around the large hotel lobby, his feet echoing on the wooden floor. Light hung from the ceiling in paper bags over his head. A small lounge was at the side of the room near a peach colored collection of square love-seats. Fable wandered towards the windows that were covered with black curtains that he casually opened.
Voltaire heard the friction of the curtains’ wooden rings as they slid open against the wall. He walked over to the curtains and felt the sunlight on his skin. Annoyed, Voltaire reached out and found the curtains which he then pulled closed. Fable cried out and tried to fight the curtains that seemed to be moving on their own, but his hands instinctively wrapped around Voltaire’s wrist. Fable froze and his eyes turned towards the place where Voltaire would be standing. His grip on the invisible flesh tightened.
“It is just me,” Voltaire said calmly.
Fable pulled Voltaire closer and threateningly said “don’t sneak up on me.”
“Only if you promise to keep the curtains closed,” Voltaire said in a bored voice even as he stumbled into Fable and felt the cold metal of a military uniform press against his naked skin.
“Why do you care?” Fable asked “no one can see you so the curtains have no purpose.”
“Someone could look through the window and see you holding me right now,” Voltaire said quietly as he struggled against Fable’s grip.
“They would see what they always see.” Fable said as his knuckles turned white around Voltaire’s wrist. “They would see me alone in a room and I am fine with that.”
“Let go of me,” Voltaire said as anger crept into his voice and he was released. Fable turned sideways so he could look at a painting by the window and Voltaire pressed his sore wrist to his chest as he took a few short breaths and rubbed his bald head.
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely for your entertainment.