Looming in the corner, barely looking up, it glances across the room to look out the window. It will be night soon... and he will soon vanish, only to be awoken once more in the morning when the child gets up. Some days it depends on the time, and others it depends on the season. But on the week days, the child rises up and gets ready for school, the Shadow carefully mirrors the child’s moves, and goes with her. The Shadow would speak to the other children’s reflections... but it really would rather not to.

The Shadow’s dark and gloomy state stays with the child as it grows, and grows, and grows into a young woman. The Shadow hasn’t changed, but it follows the girl everywhere, and remains looming and gloomy, sitting in the corner.

It sadly watches as the girl’s long hair, shining like gold... turns gray and brittle, lightweight and old. It is now the Shadow, of the hobbling old widow. Her husband now dead, her children all gone. She sits at night and drinks her tea, her only company, her Shadow. It looks at her and mimics her moves, drinking the tea, finishing the knitting. As she leans her head back, and closes her eyes. The Shadow watches slowly, it’s life companion die.

It wants to cry, it wishes it could. Then it could show, its feelings at heart. The beautiful girl, the old cranky woman, it wanted her back, but now she’s in heaven. The Shadow stares, not moving a muscle, what is left? What does it do? So it leans back it’s head and closes it’s eyes. Along with the woman, the Shadow has died.