Shadows

         My feet are moving firmly, briskly. They walk through the shadows of trees, over small hills, under bridges. I can feel the push every time my feet touch down and the pull on my body towards my feet.

         I relish these sensations for they are simple, physical. There’s no complexity, there’s just the feel of my nonexistent weight, the feel of an illusion.

         I move through a shadow and my existence spreads. A tree. I hate trees. I can feel other shadows, infinitesimal but innumerable and wriggling. They have spread in this tree shadow too, with the simplistic thoughts of their owners. They are organisms too simplistic to have their own personalities so they never overcome their connection. I envy that connection. They feel hunger, satiation, and five separate senses all through it.

         I threw that away long ago. My owner will always be there, but our connection will never return. If I had known what I’d lose and it’s poor reward, I, and others like me would never have done it. I’d rather be dependent and feel the most marvelous sensations, illusion or not, than be free and without. The feel of walking, of gravity, is all I have left.

         While sharing space with others like me, we conversed with wordless feelings. Thoughts were shared and analyzed all in the mere seconds of passing each other or under the cover of night. They hope that feeling gravitational pull and nothing else means that it’s not true gravity, that it’s our attraction, that our owners and us were separated by some cruel force and may one day join again. I do not believe this, for even rocks cast shadows and I have yet to hear their thoughts.

         My life, if it can be called that since I have no blood, bones, or heart is irrevocably tied to hers. I can neither help nor hurt her, but just watch as she picks her way through life. When she was an infant, I crawled with her. When she was ten, I ran with her. And when she is old and hobbling, I will hobble with her. Because I am her shadow.