People recognise my face but they don't recognise me.
If they see me walking through town, they notice me, but they are not sure why I look familiar and they are puzzled; puzzled is good.
In the office they don't notice me at all.
They don't know how intimate I am with their secrets, they leave screens on displaying their messages to the world; if no-one is in the office I can touch their things.
They speak in front of me, pausing & glancing up when I enter the room, then resuming the conversations as if it is safe for me to know things; work things or things they are telling their friends.
I scheme, scheme and dream of the day when the sirens will shriek here; the red and blue lights of ambulances and police cars will strobe, and I wonder who will notice me then.