I walk the crowded hall unseen by all. I wince as a bag full of books hits my shoulder. I duck out of the way of another bag. I know I'm short, I know I'm thin, but I'm not that tiny. I feel like an ant, or a speck of dust. Unseen.

Like the 'Whos' on the dust speck, no one knows I exist. No one can see or hear me. I float through the halls being jumbled around by everyone. Pushed into the wall, hit by shoulders, bags, and entire bodies.

Also like the 'Whos,' I have my own Horton. He knows I'm there, he can see me. People know he exists and sometimes they see me when I'm with him.

It's no fun being a dust speck. You get thrown around a lot. Sometimes even injured. Someday I'll be seen. Someday people will know I exist. I'll no longer be thrown through the halls and hit by everything.

Like the 'Whos,' I will make myself heard and everyone will know I'm there. I won't be trampled, or thumped, or hit with anything. I'll be free to move about on my own.