What Shadows Know

They are the dark apprentices of light, learning every curve and corner, faithful mirrors that refuse to beautify. A shadow knows the shape of standing still, how long a person can remain in one place before becoming part of the darkness they cast. When you move, it moves with you— not trailing behind like doubt, but moving forward into rooms before you arrive, mapping the territory where you'll soon be. And in the evening, when the sun lies down, your shadow grows and grows, until it is taller than you've ever been, holding knowledge of all the ground you've crossed, all the light you've passed through, all the shapes you've learned to hold.