November 11

Silly, Silly Shadow

Shadow. That’s what he was. A shadow, cold and fluid. He moved like darkness sliding under the eaves at dusk. Like runoff pooling at the foot of a bluff. Like the chill that arrives a step ahead of bad news. It was who he was, though if you asked him about it he’d look through you like a man trying to read a sign in fog.

Shadow.

He loved the word, loved it like he loved his own name. It was his name, a word he could say, a sound half-breath, half-song. He rocked on his heels and gazed at the convenience store shelves around him, so many shapes and colors, like being lost in a box of crayons.

An old man came out of the back room and took up a spot behind the counter, fixed him with a cloudy gaze. A voice argued with itself from a radio on the counter. “How can I help you, son?”

“S-s-s-shadow ...”

The old man’s gaze flicked to the cloth wrapped around Shadow’s head and he frowned, puzzled. “Come again?”

“S-s-s-singing ... S-s-s-shadow.”

The old man seemed to deliberate for a moment. A cigarette smoldered in an ashtray between the cash register and the need-apenny-take-a-penny dish. The old man reached for it, took a long drag. Coughed up a moist pillow of smoke. His eyes gleamed as though he’d figured something out. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

“Where you from, son—the clinic? You got any family?”

He rolled his head ... not a shake, not a nod. He didn’t know how to answer the question.

“No one?” Flesh hung from the old man’s neck like a curtain and fluttered when he spoke, a streamer in a soft breeze.

“S-s-s-soft.”

The old man leaned back, eyes troubled. He seemed to come to a decision. “Soft all right.” His words were more breath than voice now. “Soft in the head.” He chuckled, weary, and started to turn away, to reach for the phone on the wall at his back.

Shadow didn’t think. Maybe couldn’t think. His hand shot forward, swift as a snake. The oldman’s larynx popped like an apple under a boot heel. A moment later, Shadow was behind the counter, singing over the fallen body. “S-s-s-silly, silly ...”