Hiding in plain sight

“How are you?” he asks. Looking at her gently, knowing the answer even before she says it.
“I’m fine,” she replies. She looks right at him, trying to appear perfectly calm, her eyes dark, revealing nothing.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“Of course I am,” she answers, laughing lightly as if to lend credence to the lie.
“Alright then, if you’re ok I’ll go. I’ll stay if you want me to,” but he’s already reaching for the door knob. Then he stops and looks back, uncertain whether to believe her.
She smiles and waves him away. As the door closes she begins to cry. She’s gotten so good at hiding in plain sight that he doesn’t see or hear. He doesn’t know. She looks out the window and watches him leave, already on his cell phone, already somewhere else, even before he’s completely gone.
She walks to the bedroom reaches into the closet for her suitcase. There is no point in staying. She’s become so well hidden that whether she stays or goes is inconsequential. She picks up her keys. Takes one more look around. Pulling out of the driveway and heading to the mountains she wonders if there is a place she can go to where she won’t need to hide anymore.