Life is death without its shadow.

  I woke up at the same time as always—6:30 AM. My alarm went off, and I absentmindedly silenced it. I brushed my teeth, used the restroom, and grabbed a quick bite before heading out to work. The walk was short, just ten minutes, but refreshing, especially in the city mornings when everyone was either going to work or coming back from night shifts. Some people looked exhausted, their faces tight with the kind of stress that could snap at any moment. I kept to myself, as I always did, and didn’t bother anyone.

  At the stop sign, cars zoomed past me and the other bystanders. I finished my toast, dusted off my hands, and then I realized—something was wrong.

  I didn’t have a shadow.

  Everyone else had one. Their outlines stretched across the sidewalk under the dim glow of streetlights and city signs, but mine wasn’t there. At first, I laughed softly to myself. It had to be a trick of the light, right? I took a step forward when the light turned green, thinking maybe the movement would coax it out, but it didn’t. My shadow remained missing.

  I was utterly confused. Had the sun abandoned me? No, of course not—it was still dark, the city lit only by artificial lights. The sun would rise soon enough. By the time I got off work, I’d see its rays and my shadow would surely be there again.

  That thought comforted me, though not entirely.

  At work, things felt...off. I’d always been a quiet person, not much of a talker, but today it seemed like everyone was actively ignoring me. Sure, I’d been late a couple of times recently, but that didn’t feel like enough of a reason to completely freeze me out. Even Annie from accounting—who I considered a close friend—walked past me without so much as a glance. That wasn’t like her. Maybe she was having a bad day, I thought. Maybe everyone was. I didn’t push it.

  The hours crawled by. During break time, no one spoke to me, as if I didn’t exist. I found it rude but didn’t say anything.

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  When the day finally ended, I stepped out of the office just in time to catch the sunset. The long shadows of buildings stretched across the city, painting the streets in warm hues of orange and red. I looked for my shadow again.

  It wasn’t there.

  Not under the streetlights, not in the fading sunlight. Nothing. I stared at my feet for a long moment, feeling an odd sense of emptiness. It was almost as if I didn’t exist. But I shook it off. Maybe I was just tired. I hadn’t slept well last night—an awful headache had kept me up.

  Back in my apartment, I changed into my comfy house clothes and made myself a simple meal. A salad. As I ate, my thoughts wandered back to the day. Why was my shadow missing? Everything else had one. The knife on the counter, the fridge, even the cluttered bookshelf in the corner—all of it cast perfect shadows. I glanced out the window at the tall building across the street, its silhouette looming over the smaller ones below. Yet, I had nothing.

  I told myself I was just exhausted. Tomorrow would be better. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t sleep.

  The next morning, sunlight poured into my apartment, but I felt no better. I didn’t even feel like going to work. I tried calling in sick, but no one picked up. Frustrated, I decided to step outside.

  The sun was bright and warm, but when I stepped into its light, I cast no shadow. Again. I stared at the pavement, then at my body, moving my arms to confirm what I already knew. There was nothing. It felt wrong, like an unfinished sketch with crucial details missing.

  I didn’t know where I was going, but I kept walking. My feet carried me aimlessly until I came upon a car crash. The area was taped off, the wreckage still there. Something about it pulled at me.

  As I approached, a searing pain erupted in my head. It was unbearable—like my skull was splitting open. I fell to the ground, clutching my temples as the memories flooded back.

  The screeching of tires.

  Blinding lights.

  The sound of metal twisting and shattering.

  The cold, suffocating embrace of death.

  I remembered now. I had died in that crash.

  The truth hit me like a tidal wave. My shadow wasn’t missing because of some trick of the light—it was gone because I was gone. I wasn’t alive. No one had been ignoring me because they were rude. They couldn’t see me at all. The meals I thought I ate, the routines I followed—it was all in my head. A desperate attempt to hold onto the life I no longer had.

  I sank onto the steps of my apartment, staring blankly at the ground. Why was I still here?

  Even now, knowing I was dead, I lingered. Fear of death had kept me tethered to the living world, but shouldn’t that fear have vanished with the knowledge that I was already gone?

  I closed my eyes. Maybe when I opened them, I’d be back in my bed, and this would all just be a terrible dream.

  Maybe.