[ WP ] A man discovered that he could change his perspective from first-person to third-person . He then found out the world looked really different from this perspective .

“ Good morning, sir! How are you today? ” *Bright voice, sunny smile, yet inside, everything was dark. God, she hated this job. Five days a week, eight hours a day, watching her last spattering of energy disappear down an emotional drain for what, $ 7.25 an hour? Before taxes? And it wasn ’ t like she ’ d dreamed as a little girl of serving old ladies by smoothing out endless coupons for hemorrhoid ointment or making her perverted manager happy by rearranging violently neon marshmallow bunnies to make it look like they were innocently frolicking in the plastic grass and NOT reproducing ( thank you, teenage boys ). She often went to bed at night and sunk into sleep under cover of the fact that she was another day closer to death. The worst part was, she didn ’ t know if that thought was horrifying or comforting. * 
 
 “ I ’ m… um, just the gum, please. ” *He attempted to contort his facial features into something resembling a smile, but his discomfort was uncontrollably visible. This ability was still new to him, and he was still struggling with the desperate desire to reject it. Unfortunately short, unacceptably fat, he had always felt completely isolated from the world around him. His invisibility felt like a ball and chain around his chubby ankle, weighing down his mood and dragging down his potential. All he had ever wanted was to feel connected to someone. But not everyone. Not like this. * 
 
 “ Okay! Do you have a store card, sir? ” *She hated having to call people “ sir ” and “ ma ’ am ”. Weren ’ t those supposed to be terms of respect? How was she supposed to know if the random people who appeared at her counter were deserving of respect? By analyzing the items they bought? She eyed the man in front of her. Purchaser of chewing gum. Haver of halitosis. But maybe he was a thief with bad breath, or a rapist with bad breath, or a murderer. And suddenly, she realized that her first thought when considering this man ’ s possible criminal inclinations wasn ’ t fear but… excitement. Lurid anticipation. Because at least it would be more interesting than a regular day. Maybe she could even get on the news. Of course, her second thought was about how fucked up her first thought was, but she decided to ignore that one. * 
 
 “ I don ’ t, but that… that ’ s okay. ” *He reached into his pocket and saw the girl jump ever so slightly. Damn it. It wasn ’ t like he could casually drop into the conversation that he was grabbing his wallet, not a weapon. That was the worst part about this whole thing. So much of the information was simply impossible to use. It just seemed so… wasteful. Like checking out all the books from a library but not being able to read. God, this was so frustrating! What was the point? In movies, when crazy things like this happened, there was always some sort of guardian angel to answer your questions, but he had no one. He ’ d just woken up like this, as if it were a normal day - except for the whole omniscient narrator thing. * 
 
 “ Alright! Are you paying cash or credit? ” *It didn ’ t matter. Nothing mattered. People could pay any way they liked, yet she still had to ask. Hell, once someone had tried to pay with Euros and she ’ d just pretended not to notice. She found it was getting easier and easier to ignore things that unsettled her and that in itself was something she wanted to ignore. Was she overcoming anxiety or numbing herself to pain? She wanted to believe that if the outcome was the same, it didn ’ t matter, but she knew deep down that wasn ’ t true. * 
 
 “ Cash. ” *He threw a $ 20 onto the counter and walked away before he could find out anymore. On his way out of the store, he walked past a middle-aged man who ’ d just lost his wife and a teenage girl who was pregnant but didn ’ t know it yet. Fresh air kissed his face like no one else ever had and he took a deep breath, startling his lungs but clearing his mind. At least he knew it was about to start raining. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and jogged to his car. He wondered if he would ever get used to knowing someone so intimately and having to walk away from them - reading the chapters of people's lives that they would never read out loud and then leaving the book behind. As much as he knew he would have to adjust eventually, another part of him hoped he never would. *
