Mia was the last one to leave the office again, dragging herself toward the lobby’s glass doors. That’s when she noticed her shadow reflected beside her—not matching her movements. When she lifted her hand to push the door, the shadow lifted its other hand, as if waving at her. She froze, breath caught in her throat.
The shadow tilted its head, studying her like a stranger studying prey.
From that night on, it lingered. She would catch it standing under streetlights when she walked home, stretching tall and thin behind her even when she wasn’t moving. At home, it waited in corners—dark patches where light refused to reach. Sometimes she saw it standing behind the shower curtain, a perfectly still silhouette.
One night she woke to pressure on her chest. Her shadow sat on top of her, flattening against her ribs, sinking cold into her lungs. She tried to scream, but only a faint breath escaped.
When she woke in the morning, everything felt normal—except her reflection.
It smiled at her.
She didn’t.
