Walking home, talking about nothing

Chatting aimiably and laughing at everything

The sun hot on our backs, throwing long shadows before us that bobbed as we walked

Not many people about- me and a friend, plus a six former’s quick and heavy footsteps behind us

Nearly home, now: nearly back to a cool shower, some snacks to keep hunger at bay, and a drink to wet our throats

Sun beating down at us, shadows stretching before us. Heavy bags, footsteps drawing closer

I know with some strange instinct that the six former is behind us, now

So I keep my eyes forward, as you do, and wait till he passes by

My eyes drawn to our shadows, bobbing on the pavment. Before realising, with a thrill of shock and horror…

…That the six-former had no shadow.

He was right behind us. I could hear him, glimse him out of the corner of my eye.

But before me- my shadow. My friends shadow. But no sign of his. I didn’t understand. It was impossible!

He overtook, and I gazed at his face as he passed. Ordianary. Dark hair, signs of stubble, jeans and a marron t-shirt.

And yet… no shadow. None at all. It was unmistakeable. The sun was clear, hot, bright- and yet the six-former, now drawing into the distance, did not have a shadow.

What was he?


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