How Could I Possibly Be Inconspicuous Novels & Stories

’ That sentence penetrated slowly. ‘Can I have been that stupid?’ I asked. ‘Should I stop seeing him – to be on the safe side?’ ‘Carry on as normal, but avoid situations in which you could be photographed. Remember, dim light or vast distance is no protection with modern software. I recommend good disguises.’ Abe got up to leave. I asked, ‘Is there a plan?’ ‘I need to check the room, preferably with you and your lover doing exactly what you did last time.’

“I won’t pretend to be pregnant, but I could still be there. Like a motherly figure or something.” “Won’t the people who work there think it’s odd that some random person is just sitting in their waiting room?” “Possibly. It depends on how crowded it is. For that matter, maybe they don’t need to notice me at all.” I was coming up with all of this off of the fly, and I realized it might end up being a really bad idea, but I was beginning to commit to the idea. I didn’t know if I could make myself completely invisible. I doubted that somehow, but I could make myself unnoticeable, and I could definitely make myself look unrecognizable to Starla.

The man staring back had softer features, an easy smile hidden behind his mouth, someone no one would look at twice. I smirked. “Perfect.” By the time I left the motel, I was invisible. I kept my head just low enough, shoulders relaxed, eyes always scanning but never still for long. That was the trick. Move like you belong, and no one would question you. I raised my head and saw Riley walking out of her apartment building with a gym bag slung across her shoulder. She didn’t look left or right, just down at her phone, thumb flicking across the screen.

That woman knew who she was. Now I stand in a modest room where every item has been chosen to keep me invisible. A small bed. A narrow mirror. Clothes folded carefully because there is no space to be careless. Shoes reduced to what is practical. Jewelry almost nonexistent. Makeup limited to the basics. This life is quieter. Smaller. Low profile by design. No one looks twice at me when I step outside, and that is exactly how it has to be for now. I run my fingers through my hair and meet my own gaze again. The fire is still there. It never left. It is only waiting.

I also couldn’t obtain coloured contacts, so I’m hoping that by using some dark sunglasses, I can distract from my nose while concealing my eyes. Disguises work best in one of two ways. The obvious is to become invisible. This means making yourself so plain; so unassuming and average that you become forgettable. You want to become someone who can walk through a crowded room and have no one even realise you’re there. The second is distraction. It’s not just about looking different; but about adopting a different persona and embodying it from head to toe. When you don’t want people to observe you too closely, the key is to distract them. You can do this in one of two ways. Create a focal point

They will automatically assume you have fled and rather than going up buildings, they will search the streets. Third, you need to keep yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Dress like them. Walk like them. And most certainly don’t have a damned gun case strapped to your back. Make sure you have a second option when it comes to stashing the case. All of these things blurred across my brain as I meticulously disassembled the sniper rifle and packed it away. Next came the clothes, dull shades that didn’t heat your skin too much in the blistering sun. I stripped down and dressed in less than a minute, despite sweat streaming down my body.

I needed to look small, busy, and completely unavailable. My plan was simple: invisibility. I would not make eye contact. I would not speak. I would get coffee, grab something fast, and get out of the lodge before they could engage me. I had hours of schoolwork I needed to finish to justify this weekend's absence, and that was going to be my shield. I walked down the stairs, moving like a ghost. The lodge was silent, save for the low crackle of the revived fire. I paused halfway down, dread pooling in my chest.

Their laughter carried that easy tone of people who had never once had to worry about anything. I slipped between them like another piece of furniture. Yes, that was exactly the goal, being invisible is not about hiding completely. It is about becoming so ordinary, that people forget you could ever matter at all. I had poured coffee in board meetings where men casually discussed deals that could send them to prison, and none of them ever paused or lowered their voices around me. It's been three good years of building that version of myself. I had been careful, and quiet on this work. And tonight, I stood right on the edge of breaking through.

I stayed invisible by design. No lingering near executive offices. No unnecessary meetings. No eye contact that lasted a second too long. I wore thick-framed glasses that slightly distorted my features, my hair tucked beneath a neat, forgettable wig—professional, bland, designed to fade into the background. On paper, it was enough. In reality, I knew better. If Vivian ever saw me face to face, she’d recognize me in an instant. Some faces don’t disappear that easily. Mine was one of them. So I made sure she never had a reason to look twice.

Keep a low profile and hiding behind a wall or tree is the solution. Does your overly volatile mentor want to know who the hell hid the drink from her this time? Keep a low profile and hide behind her helper. Do a former teacher and love squadmate kiss you like there's no tomorrow at a holiday event? Hide in your apartment like a turtle in its shell and live off fast food delivery for the rest of your life ... and yes, that counts as keeping a low profile too.