Chiv: Air waves and locked doors

Sometimes I have days where I am glad people don't notice me anymore. I investigate lawyers offices in the neighborhood simply by walking in past an intern or an assistant leaving to get lunch for the office. Then I stay there, sitting in on divorce cases and office chatter about how the office janitor forgets to vacuum under the furniture,  and how clients notice these things. Or I explore the courthouse itself;  I run my fingers down encyclopedias and case books, sit in the witness stand while to be or not to be jurors spill their life stories to complete strangers, and before I leave write inspirational messages, or a quote I like on a small white board hung up in the employee-only section; the most mundane depressing section of the building, 3rd floor, right from the elevators, and straight down past the bathrooms.

  Other days I stowaway onto boats on the docks, explore the local power station, comb the police station for action, or even if I feel completely adventurous I might hop on a train for a day trip. I always come back from such adventures for some reason, and I always tell the cats, mostly kiwi, that it is their fault that I do. But this is all on good days, and always bad days must balance out the good.

 On a good bad day sulk about the house and fiddle with the old radio that is the only furniture, my house consists of. I listen to the soothing voices of hosts calling me a "dear listener" and it soothes me to know that I am a listener so that means they are talking to me. That even though they can't see me. I am who they are talking to. They are talking to me. Someone who still exists and can listen in. In those moments, I can almost feel the invisible waves wash over me and I then feel all fuzzy like static. 

 Kiwi murrs and rubs against my leg, as I sit against the wall in the dust blanketed corner next to the radio that would have once sent me into an asthma attack from just looking at it. This action she does to remind me that the cats also acknowledge my continued existence,  but I tell her " it is not the same" kiwi merely flicks her left ear at me to this and begins to clean her right shoulder by gnawing and licking at it passive aggressively.  As if that was my answer. I think she might agree, but I can't be sure. These days I can relate more and more with a stray cat or static on airwaves then people.