I was outside the station, standing in the parking lot on a hot day, talking to my doctor on the phone. Nothing dramatic, just looking ahead.
Then out comes Seth Rome. You know the type. Talks like he knows things he hasn’t done. Detective on paper, Marine in memory, social operator in practice.
He’s been working overtime to make sure I don’t exist. Not just ignoring me but strategically erasing me. He’s worked the squad like a cocktail party, befriending everyone, bonding with them over God knows what—probably war stories he downloaded from Saving Private Ryan.
And here he comes, pretending to be on his phone. Not walking, performing. Head down, fake scrolling, playing the “I don’t see you” game.
Except I saw it. The corner of my eye doesn’t lie.
As soon as he passed me, when he thought I was out of his sight, he looked up. Just a flick of the eyes. Subtle. Involuntary. He looked up.
That’s when it clicked.
He’s not ignoring me because I don’t exist. He’s ignoring me because I do. Loudly. Quietly. Relentlessly.
He looked up to check. To confirm. To see if I was still standing. I was.
And in that moment, I cracked the mystery I didn’t even realize I was still trying to solve.
He can’t get me out of his head.
This man has orchestrated alliances, manipulated conversations, seeded silence. All because I didn’t play his game.
And yet—here I am. On the phone. Not even thinking about him. And he still looked.
That’s not indifference. That’s obsession with a smiley face drawn on top.
I don’t need to win over the squad. They’ve already been recruited. But the one man who thinks he’s running it? He just gave me everything I needed to know.
