The Beautiful Ones walk past us, around us, through us. It was as if we weren't there. But we are, hundreds, thousands, millions of us are there, just no one is caring. They're watching alright, if we were to make one step out of line, they'd care. But till then, no one is watching, no one is looking, and no one cares.
"Hi." I mumble quietly to a recognizable face. A hello was probably whispered back but the point of hearing it is for nothing but comfort that this person cares. But do they really? If The Beautiful Ones don't, who really does?
