Don’t look at me

There's a period of waiting before our shift begins. We, the catering team, all sit together, a row of black uniforms.

I'm looking down at my phone because no one is talking to me. Instagram. Facebook. NYTimes. But my neck is stiff, so I decide to look up.

Everyone else is talking, engrossed with each other. Smiling. Gesturing. Nodding.

I watch for a few moments, then I look down again. No one spoke to me, but that's ok. I don't want them to.