The cabinet door creaked open, and I reached for a bowl before closing it with a click. I broke the two eggs on the surface of the counter. Crack. Crack. I whisked the eggs, and a rhythmic clink of the fork filled the kitchen as it hit the glass bowl.

The tea kettle whistled. The egg mixture sizzled in the pan, followed by salt and pepper.

I leaned on the counter, looking through the window. The autumn wind blew outside with whooshing sounds.

Or at least that was what it would have sounded like to anyone else. Not me.

I was deaf.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my teenage little brother sneaking in through the front door. I sighed and turned my head towards him. He froze. Sometimes I wondered if he thought I was blind, too.

He looked at me with a sheepish expression. Blue eyes that looked nothing like my dark brown ones were hazy and red.

Not again. I gestured for him to sit at the table while I flipped the omelet, before taking out my marker and small board, my way of communication with him for five years now. I wrote with furious strokes.

'We already talked about this! At least hold back when it's a school night. You have the weekend to party all you want.'

His eyes squinted as he tried to read the words. He rolled his eyes.

"Sis, you worry too much. I'm a sophomore, I can afford to have a little fun every once in a while," he said. Well, that's what I thought he said. I was very confident in my lip-reading skills.

I just shook my head while transferring the eggs to a plate. I put some burned toast, just the way he liked it, on the side with a glass of orange juice.

"Thanks," he said, taking a bite of his food.

'Are you skipping again?' I asked, using my trusted board. He nodded, focusing on his food. He avoided my gaze until the very last bite. After gulping down the juice in one go, he scrambled to his feet.

"Thanks for the food," he said, walking inside his bedroom and closing the door behind him. I looked around our shabby two-bedroom apartment. Four pale walls where I had lived for three years with my brother. Lately, it was almost always deserted. I only came here to sleep after a long day of juggling two jobs, and my brother never seemed to be here except to eat or whenever his 'friends' were too busy for him.

Looking outside the window to the morning sky, I prayed that this was only a phase, that he would soon get his head on straight. Everything I was doing, was for him. I wanted him to have a future brighter than mine. I had been saving so he could go to college and make something out of himself. But these days, I realized that those were only my dreams for him. I wondered if he even shared my hopes.

I picked up some dry toast and my bag and then headed out. It was still early, but I had to catch an early ride on the bus to get there in time. The place I had been assigned to for around a year now was on the other side of the city, where expensive suits were a familiar sight on the streets, and skyscrapers teased the sky. A far cry from the sketchy alleys and the neglected streets of my neighbourhood.

I made sure I had the small notebook and the pen within reach when I took my usual seat on the bus. I never really needed them, though. That was one of the good things about big cities; everyone kept to themselves, and small talk about inconsequential things like the weather was nonexistent. That worked well for me since, for obvious reasons, I couldn't really make small talk.

Technically, I could. But since it had been years since I had last used my voice, I was no longer confident in talking. Memories of the last time I had flashed in my mind. I shook my head and focused on the passing scenery. Buildings, cars, busy people from the earliest hours of dawn.

The scenery slowly morphed from cheap to expensive. Worn-out shirts and scruffy shoes turned into crisply tailored suits and well-polished footwear as we approached my workplace. The company that the cleaning company I worked for was subcontracted for two years.

It was the headquarters of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world. The impressive thirty-eight-floor building and its lavish interior spoke volumes about the size of the business.

I walked out of the bus, keeping my eyes wide open while I crossed the road. My sight was the only sense that I relied on in my everyday life. To help compensate for my lack of hearing, I had to be present at all times. I couldn't afford to lose focus at any moment, especially outside. It seemed like a simple thing, but it was actually very challenging. Even a momentary daydream could cost me.

I knew firsthand how severe the consequences were; I still had a scar from it. It happened in my old town. I had been waiting for the light to switch so I could cross the street. My mind was so preoccupied with some worldly matter that I didn't even notice the light had already turned green and a bicycle was crossing the street straight for me. He was moving too fast. He might have rang his bell, but I obviously couldn't hear it. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my side, my palm caught in a sharp edge of cobble-stone. It had cut so deep into my skin that I had gotten four stitches.

So with an alert mind, I rang my card in the access control system. Since it was still early, no one was around except the security. A friendly middle-aged man that was always on duty at this time of the day. He waved at me with a kind, wrinkled smile as I passed through. I returned his greeting.

I didn't know if he knew about my deafness. It was surprising, but very few people knew, even from the cleaning crew that I worked with. That was one of the reasons it was easier for me to get this job and actually keep it for this long. Besides the fact that I had no degree, cleaning usually did not require communication on an advanced level. You just had to do your work and "stay out of everyone's way", as my immediate boss had kindly put it when I was assigned here.

"Good morning, Irene!"

Mrs. Doolittle greeted me with a wide smile. I waved as I headed for my locker. This place was so big that the cleaning staff had their own 'wing', a very large locker room where we kept our stuff, next to a storage room that had all our cleaning supplies.

A hand tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned towards Mrs. Doolittle. Her blue eyes held wisdom she had acquired in her fifty-six years of life. She smiled at me as I read her pink lips.

"If Jane gives you any trouble, you just tell me. I'll be sure to have a word with her."

I chuckled silently and shook my head, mouthing a 'thank you' since she didn't understand sign language.

"You're too kind," she said, waving a finger at me. "You should be more rough if you want to survive in this world."

I whipped out my small notebook and wrote on it. 'I'm sure she won't do anything, but I'll be sure to tell you otherwise.'

She laughed, I thought, before nodding approvingly and going back to her locker as I changed into my work uniform.

A dull blue short sleeve top paired with pants in the same color. It made my five foot two pale-skinned self even more plain than usual. I wrapped my black hair in a ponytail out of my face, tucked my means of communication in my pocket, and then joined Mrs. Doolittle, who was exiting the changing room.

As we got out, Jane happened to walk by us to the lockers. Her haughty eyes that were glaring at me flickered away when she noticed the chilling look Mrs. Doolittle was sending her way.

Jane was a pretty blonde woman in her mid-thrities. She was the closest one to my twenty-two years of age in the cleaning staff. I had no idea what I did to her, if I ever offended her in some way, which I could have done without being aware because of my condition. Anyway, she kind of didn't like me.

Okay, didn't like me might have been a sort of an understatement. Hated my guts and wished she threw me from the rooftop of this building was a much closer description of her feelings towards me.

"I'll see you later, Irene," Mrs. Doolittle said while I waved with a smile. Ever since I lost my hearing, I liked to imagine how people's voices sounded. Mrs. Doolittle probably had one of those voices that reminded you of home, warm and comforting but a little worn out and wavery due to her age. A grandmother's voice.

We parted ways, each going with our own cleaning supplies to the floor we were assigned. Jane and I worked on the same floor, which was why we tended to cross ways. Though she gave me a wide berth more often than not. Fortunately.

I dragged my fully-equipped cleaning cart to the elevator. 10th floor. I pressed the button and waited, well aware of my empty surroundings. We had to get to work earlier than the employees of the company so we would not hamper them, although a big chunk of work still had to be done when the employees were around.

I reached the floor I had grown accustomed to for a year now. Finance was written in elegant cursive writing on the wall facing the elevators.

I went about my usual routine, sticking to my side of the floor. The gray marble flooring was already shimmering under the lights that reflected off the beige walls, along with the early sun rays streaming through the gigantic glass windows around the whole floor.

The offices of this floor were only cleaned twice a week under the supervision of an employee, since they probably had sensitive information for the company, being the Finance department and all. Today wasn't an office cleaning day, so I happily skipped them.

I finished cleaning around the cubicles and almost finished the luxurious bathrooms that were double the size of my apartment when I heard employees start trickling in.

Just kidding. Of course, I couldn't hear employees coming in. I knew because when I was finishing up, two women in dress shirts and pencil skirts came into the bathrooms to fix their already perfect make up.

I quickly finished up and got out of there, unnoticed like always. It always amazed me how the cleaning staff was almost invisible to regular employees. We were like walking cleaning machines to most of them. Although cleaning machines would probably get more attention.

Not that it bothered me. I liked being left in the shadows. It made things easier, not having to struggle to communicate with others; they would always be too impatient to wait for me to write a reply, anyway.

Another reason why I liked being in this line of work. Being left alone.

As I walked through the floor, staying close to the wall, I noticed that the atmosphere was more tense than usual. People in the cubicles were sending nervous glances to each other and to the offices, especially one of the offices. It was the department head's office.

I didn't like that man. His eyes always wandered whenever I had to clean his office under his supervision. Creepy old man.

Was something happening there?

I decided against satiating my curiosity and headed the opposite way to the elevators again. I had read somewhere that elevator buttons were dirtier than toilet seats. So, I got to work again and started cleaning the outside button panels, making sure to get out of anyone's way when they wanted to use the elevator.

I thought I was paying attention. I really did. But I made a mistake and did the one thing I had always told myself to never, ever do. Ever.

I zoned out.

I was cleaning around one of the button panels- those corners were tricky- when my mind wandered to Jim, my little brother.

I didn't know what I could do to get him focused on school again. He was such a good kid. He had been when my parents were alive, and when we lived with my aunt when my parents died. Even during the first year after we had moved to the city, he was adjusting pretty well.

But suddenly, it all changed, and he started hanging with the wrong crowd. I couldn't blame him, really. In the area we lived in, it was difficult not to stray off the right way. But that was all I could afford.

If it was just some partying going overboard, I would have been okay with it. He was a teenager after all, and he had just moved to a big city when his whole life he had lived in a small town.

But it wasn't just that. He was skipping school, doing poorly at it when I knew how smart he was, and drinking too much for a normal teenager.

Sometimes I doubted he was doing drugs. One night he came home high, too high. Even with my inexistent experience in that matter, I could tell it wasn't just alcohol or weed. It was something much more, something that scared the crap out of me.

Maybe I was so caught up in providing him with an education and ensuring his college tuition that I didn't pay attention to him anymore? Maybe if we had stayed in our old town, nothing like this would have happened? But how would I have been able to support us? I couldn't find work there, and my aunt only took us in because I had begged her. If she hadn't, Jim and I would have been separated in the system. But then, maybe he would have found a better place to live than what I was offering? Maybe it would have been better for him? After all, what would a deaf twenty-two-year-old girl be able to do for him?

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't realize the panel was squeaky clean and someone was trying to catch my attention.

I blinked out of my daze. When I realized I had been day dreaming, my heart started hammering in my chest in fear of what could have been happening.

I was about to turn when a hand roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the elevator.

I was so disoriented that I almost toppled off my feet. Luckily the grip that the woman in a crisp red suit had on my arm was steel-like, so I stayed upright, now facing a small crowd of four people. Three of them looked at me with wide eyes that showed fear. For me, I realized.

But my gaze fixed on the fourth person. He was by far the most imposing of the bunch. A man most likely in his early thirties, sporting a custom-tailored three-piece dark blue suit, slick brown hair and a short, neat beard that covered a strong jaw. I caught all that in one fraction of a second before my eyes met icy blue ones. Empty, hardened eyes that showed no emotion; a color so blue that the sky would be jealous.

He looked at me then at the lady, still gripping my arm, his eyes a blue void.

I managed to get my eyes off the people I realized wanted to get in the open elevator. Just as the doors closed, they opened again. A man already inside the elevator was holding the door for them. The only thing that blocked their way was my very own, very yellow and blue cleaning cart.

My eyes widened as I quickly pulled my arm from the lady's gri and pulled the cart out of their way, feeling my face heat up in embarrassement.

The lady waited outside as the men walked in. Before the doors closed, my dark eyes met penetrating bright blue orbs. Then they were gone.

The woman turned to me, and if looks could kill, I would have been six feet under. She glared at me with so much anger someone would have thought that I had just told her that her red suit did not match her red hair. It really didn't.

"What were you thinking?! Do you have any idea who that was?! you ...."

I couldn't read her lips after that because she shook her head and spoke way too fast. But by the way she was moving her hand wildly, I could have guessed she wasn't pleased.

I guess I screwed up, I thought, fishing my notebook from my pocket. I was just about to write something when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her throw her hands up, her red lips muttering something before she stalked away.

See what I said about being too impatient to communicate with me.

I sighed and tucked my notebook back into its place, then turned with my cart to head for the stairs. As I turned, there were people talking amongst each other as they watched the scene unfold.

I guess I managed to give them something to gossip about this morning. News of the deaf girl that made a racket in the presence of a very important person would be raging through the building by the end of the day.

I wonder who that man is. The way the woman talked and how he held himself standing ahead of the three men, I would guess he's some high-ranking corporate official.

*** ***

I finished my portion of the work for the morning in time for my lunch break. The cleaning staff had different hours compared to regular employees, since some teams took the lunch break as an opportunity to finish stuff when employees weren't around.

My lunch break was at eleven o'clock, which worked well for me since I started my day early.

After taking the cart back to the fifth floor where our 'wing' was, I grabbed my lunch and headed for my usual spot. I had been eating there for almost ten months, ever since I had first discovered it.

The rooftop.

Well, not exactly the rooftop itself. More like a spot in it. I doubt anyone knew about it since I had never stumbled upon anyone. Very rarely, I'd spot someone smoking near the wall or two people talking about something that looked very secretive. Other than those rare occurrences, the rooftop was pretty much vacant.

I walked towards a structure built in one corner of the rooftop, a room the size of my apartment, and that was always locked. I had no idea what was in there, but I didn't care much for the room itself.

I held the lunch bag under my arm so I could climb the ladder. It wasn't much, around ten steps before I arrived at my favourite spot in the world so far.

Right on top of the lone room on the rooftop.

I had an amazing panoramic view of the wild, busy city. Even though the building wasn't the tallest one around, the view was still amazing.

I could actually see the sky, which was an impressive sight in such a crowded city. When I first moved here, I wondered how people didn't feel suffocated living in the middle of such high buildings. They were so busy that they couldn't even afford a little second to crane their necks and look up to the blue sky.

It bothered me at first, especially since I had lived my whole life in a small town where the sky seemed so close.

But you get used to it. Like everything else in the cramped life of the city, you just get used to it. Fortunately, I found my little spot of heaven. Sitting with crossed legs, I let out a deep sigh. The tall buildings gave way to the far-away scenery of the water, the people below looked like small specks of dirt, and the clear blue sky stretched out forever. Everything in this place made me feel good.

It reminded me that people are such tiny, insignificant creatures in this whole wide world. Sometimes we get so lost in our problems and our selfishness that we forget we're not the center of the universe.

It reminded me that if tomorrow, for some reason, I wasn't here anymore, the world would keep turning like normal. Life would go on without me.

It wouldn't stop turning just because someone passed away. It wouldn't stop turning because a student failed his exam, or because a business leader lost millions of dollars in an affair gone wrong.

It doesn't even stop turning for the thousands of innocent people and children who were being slaughtered every day in the four corners of the world because of greed and politics and power games.

We were so insignificant.