You begin to distrust your shadow. Like a mad-thing trapped it flickers. In early morning and dusk it leaps and grows and flies like a thing pursued. Around mid-day it contracts as if to plot. In well-lit places it vanishes entirely, but to where you do not know.You sit sometimes and stare motionless and mesmerized. Unflinching it stares back, mimicking your every move. watching. waiting.

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