All the World's a Stage
Category C: Highly Commended (2025) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Tiffany Kim
No one noticed the girl. After all, she was only a little girl, around eight or nine, hardly worthy of notice. No one really cared, except for a fleeting thought as to where her parents might be and what she might be doing. But like most thoughts, it quickly evaporated, and they hurried on, checking their watches and shoving past. She watched their faces- harried, creased and scrunched up, like the paper ball Donny had thrown at her head yesterday during handwriting class. She wondered where they were going and why they were so worried. She swung her tiny legs back and forth, watching with interest until she was bored- after all, everyone looked the same, they had the same expression on their faces. She hopped down and skipped away, vanishing into the crowd, wondering if her mummy would get her ice cream this time.
No one noticed the teenager. After all, she was only a teenager, around fourteen or fifteen, hardly worthy of notice. No one really cared, except for a tinge of annoyance at the tinny music emanating from her headphones. She hunched in a grey hoodie, shoulders bunched together, lost in a whirlpool of loneliness, lost in sombre thoughts. She looked around for a smile, a frown, even a twitch, but all she saw were vacant eyes fixed on phones, feet mechanically rotating and moving forward, forward, away from her. She looked down- she knew no one was going to look up and notice her, anyway. She clicked on her own screen and drowned in an ocean of videos and comments, scrolling endlessly to fill the void in her chest. But of course, it remained heavily empty.
No one noticed the woman. After all, she was only a woman, around twenty three or twenty four- I mean - who knew? Basically, she was just another woman, hardly worthy of notice. No one really cared, except for a mild interest and varying degrees of condescension towards the new coworker. She awkwardly hopped on one leg then the other, but no one seemed to notice or care. Machines whirred, keyboards clacked, people mumbled- it all blurred into one indecipherable white noise. She hesitantly looked around. Everyone seemed fixated on their computer screens. Head lowered, hands curled tightly around the binder, she shuffled through the office, internally shrieking for help, for any form of assistance. Finally, someone approached, with a beaming smile. She smiled gratefully and followed her to her desk, warmed by the bright chatter. But of course, she too was soon gone, and she was left to fend for herself. She took a deep breath and clicked on the computer and hunched over, like everyone else.
No one noticed the mother. After all, she was only a mother, around thirty. Basically, just another tired looking lady with a wailing kid in her arms and juggling a stroller. Again, hardly worthy of any notice. No one really cared, except for a flicker of sympathy and a weak desire to help. But of course, no one stepped forward and everyone looked away, ignoring the noise. After all, it wasn’t their problem. She cooed to her baby, willing him to calm down. But the wailing only got louder, making her wince. The stroller creaked as she attempted to drag it behind her, catching on uneven paving and sprawling on the ground. She crouched down, struggling. Finally people rushed forward, placing the stroller upright and helping her up. But soon, they melded into the crowd. She wondered if they had helped because she was blocking her way. But she dismissed that thought, as the baby continued sobbing. She was being ungrateful. Of course they cared- right? She rubbed the back of her baby and momentarily closed her eyes, swaying on her feet.
No one noticed the aged lady sitting demurely at a park bench, and she finally noticed. Children, young enamoured couples, families, they all strolled past without even a glance, even as she hunched forward and took erratic breaths. She leaned back, uncaring of the sunlight streaming into her eyes. She stretched her legs out, as far as they could go, imitating the young men with sprawled legs on the subway, whom no one seemed to notice but her. And she wondered if anyone really did care about her- a lonely, frail grandmother. Maybe Shakespeare was right. Maybe the world was a stage, and we all had our role to fill at every stage of life- curious child, sulky teenager, responsible adult, caring mother, gentle grandmother. Maybe if anyone dared to act outside of their assigned role, no one would notice or care, too busy playing their own roles.
She stood up. No one noticed. But she knew they didn’t, and that was a relief. She wandered back and sat down at the same spot where she had sat almost sixty years ago. She watched new faces- still harried, still creased and still scrunched up, like the paper ball Donald Maguire had thrown at her all those years ago. And she wondered why their faces were always anxious, why even after sixty years, the same expressions filled different faces. Maybe it was the pressure the world forced on them, that kept them anxious and eager to fulfil their roles- as employees, as parents, as carers. Who knew? But even as she was invisible, she took satisfaction that she did notice, and see, unlike everyone else. She stood up, with some difficulty this time, and hobbled away, vanishing into the crowd, wondering if her daughter would get her ice cream this time.