No one ever used to notice the boy as he would slip quietly through the playground to sit on the roundabout. No one noticed the man either as he walked the same route that he had walked as a child. An invisible boy had turned into an invisible man.
Sitting on the roundabout once again the man thought back to when he had first seen "the girl with the red hair". It had been in this very playground, on this very roundabout. From his hiding place in the bushes he hadn't been able to see the girl doing the pushing, but he could just about make out the girl spinning. She had wedged herself back into one of the angles at the centre of the spinning sphere, braced her legs against the supports, flung her arms out and raised her face to the skies.
"Faster! Faster! Oh push it faster. It feels like I'm flying!"
Her red hair flew out around her like some sort of fiery aura as she spun round and round. Every now and again she would let out a whoop of pure delight and freedom. She was like some exotic creature, a bird that had been released and cried out its joy, not for anyone else to see or hear but in sheer ecstasy. The boy had never felt free. He was a plain, still caged bird watching on in envy. All too soon she leapt off the roundabout, grab her companions hand and race off down the road leaving only her memory and a still spinning wheel.
The boy sat for several minutes in the bushes still entranced. Eventually he ventured out and made his way cautiously over to where the roundabout had come to stillness. He ran his hand over the smooth metal rails dividing it into segments, wondering which one it was that she had been in. Choosing one he climbed on and stood in the centre. Adopting her position he flung his arms out and raised his face to the skies. There was no sense of freedom or of flying. There was no one to spin the wheel for him. Shutting his eyes he imagined her standing there beside him and for a moment thought he could still recognise her scent in the air. Hearing shouting voices and footsteps he leapt back off and fled into the bushes hoping that it would be her again. It wasn't but he vowed to himself to return every day to see his bird again.
Sitting on the edge of the roundabout the man spun the wheel gently, imagining that she was still there; that he could smell her scent in the air even after so many years. He had returned after that first time and he had seen her again. They had become friends. She had been his only friend. To her he wasn't invisible. But she was gone now. He had seen to that. Standing, the man gave the roundabout one last spin and walked off into the blackness, invisible.