Beate Sigriddaughter
Secrets
Being nobody was draining. Always. The original scar was pale now but quite obvious if you
looked closely: She got to do anything she wanted, so long as she kept it a secret. It wasn’t just
her, though. The basic rules were pretty clear—hide not just any dirty linen but hide all linen
whatsoever. And with all the linen tucked safely out of sight, what was left? An assortment of
well-trained individuals living by certain rules, speaking set lines, and doing whatever they
wanted when they were out of sight. Invisible. For her part, she wondered at times if she was
even real, and she shivered to even think of what might happen if anyone would ever find out
who she was and what she did when nobody was looking. Last Tuesdays she secretly bought
fresh roses for her room so her lover wouldn’t notice the expense or the guilt for not having
bought them for her. The wastefulness of it all.
Other work by Beate Sigriddaughter