A Shadow's Passing

Alex leaned back against the park bench, sighing with despair as the sunlight faded from the sky. Quiet laughter met his ears; the park was quickly emptying in the wake of the oncoming night, and he watched as the last few people made their way to the exit.

He was alone.

The lamppost nearby buzzed as it flickered to life, drawing a small swarm of summer bugs out of the sweet-smelling dusk to bathe in the pale light, and he sighed again as he stared at them.

“What now, Alex?” he mockingly asked himself. “How are you going to start over after this?”

“Start over after what?”

The unexpected voice echoed out from the street behind him; he whirled around, squinting as he focused through the dark. A short figure was standing beside the parking meter near the curb—a girl, her silhouette framed by the streetlights—and he hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Obviously,” she answered, her tone lilting with amusement. “Nobody else is here.”

She pressed a button on the parking meter; a quiet chime sounded, then she turned and crossed the narrow strip of grass that stood between the park bench and the street.

Alex raised a brow as she approached.

“Did you just put money in the meter?”

She nodded and sat down beside him.

“Yup. I put money in all of them.”

“Even though there aren’t any cars?”

She nodded again, her teeth shining in the dim light as she smiled.

“There will be in the morning. I added enough for a whole day.”

He studied her out of the corner of his eye. Thick glasses were perched atop her petite nose, and frizzy curls framed her slender face. She looked close to his age, around her late-twenties, but her attire matched someone much older—the bright fabric of a floral print dress swayed below the edge of her knee-length purple jacket, and gaudy costume jewelry glinted on her fingers. He held his breath, trying not to laugh. Everything about her looked ridiculous, right down to the ugly green socks peeking out of her tattered, red sneakers.

“Start over after what?” she asked again, her face bright with curiosity as she met his gaze. He glanced away, contemplating for a moment before deciding to answer.

“I quit my job,” he said. “I wasn’t given credit for a deal I closed, so I quit.”

“Oh. Did you like your job?”

“I loved it.”

She cocked her head in confusion.

“And…getting credit is better than having a job you love?”

He bristled defensively despite her innocent tone.

“It was a really important deal. I’d be set for life if people knew I made it happen.”

“You still did a good job, though,” she quietly pointed out. “That counts for something.”

“A pat on the back doesn’t replace the money I should’ve made,” he growled. “It’s not right.”

“Well, money isn’t important―”

“That’s just what people say to make themselves feel better,” he interrupted bitterly. “Money is important to everyone.”

Her gaze snapped forward.

“Not to me. The only thing I care about in the whole world is this.”

She pulled a small, black notebook out of her pocket, and he chuckled sarcastically as she held it up.

“That’s the only thing you care about. Right.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “It reminds me that I’m immortal.”

His laughter died in his throat.

“What?”

Now it was her turn to chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I’m not crazy,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

“Just immortal?”

She smiled, absently brushing her fingers against the ragged edges of the notebook’s worn spine.

“It was my father’s,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “It was supposed to be a journal—he carried it with him everywhere, but he got sick and never had a chance to write in it. It’s the last gift he ever gave me.”

She paused, her breath quivering with emotion as she sighed.

“That’s what made me realize it, that we’re all immortal. This book belonged to him, his hands touched the cover, and nothing will ever change that. A shadow of him is still here because he was here, even if no one remembers him.”

Alex shot her a sideways glance.

“And a hundred years from now, when those pages turn to dust?”

“Crumbled pages aren’t going to erase a whole person,” she grinned. “That’s the point—just existing leaves an indelible mark on the world. Money and fame don’t matter, because nothing can change the fact that you lived. You saw the stars, you breathed the air, you felt love and sadness and joy. People think that life only has value if someone acknowledges it, if you do something big enough to be remembered, but that’s wrong. The universe will remember you no matter what.”

He pursed his lips.

“That’s an interesting way of seeing things.”

“It’s true,” she replied. “In a million years, a shadow of you and I will still be right here. Even after we’re long gone, and even if the whole planet disappears, this moment can’t ever be erased. That’s why I leave my shadow wherever I can—I put money in the parking meters, I open doors for people, and…and I talk to strangers on park benches.”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Suddenly, she didn’t seem quite as ridiculous as before.

“Well, I should go,” she announced as she moved to stand. “It was nice talking to you. Sorry about your job.”

Alex watched her step towards the darkened street, and a sudden twinge of concern washed over him.

“You’re walking alone?”

“I live right there,” she called, gesturing at the neighborhood at the end of the street. “I’ll be fine.”

He stood up.

“What’s your name?”

She glanced back at him.

“Alicia. And you’re Alex—you said it when you were talking to yourself.”

Her shadowed figure grew smaller as she hurried away, then he saw her pause again.

“My house is on the corner of Ash and Elm,” she shouted cheerfully. “Maybe you could come by sometime.”

With that, she vanished into the cool, summer night.

Alex frowned and headed for home, but this time, his thoughts weren’t focused on work. This time, he couldn’t stop thinking about what the strange girl had said.

Her words lingered in his mind throughout the night and into the next day. Something about the simple sincerity in her voice had cut deep into his soul, and by the time afternoon came, he couldn’t bear it any longer.

He needed to see her again.

Alex’s heart raced with nervousness as he walked past the park towards the neighborhood at the end of the street. The houses were small and plain, but when he reached the corner of Ash and Elm, he instantly felt a smile tug at his lips. One look at the bright orange door and ridiculous, hot pink mailbox told him that he had found the right place.

He approached the door, butterflies churning in his stomach. His hand trembled as he knocked, and a moment later, the door swung open.

“Can I help you?”

An older woman stood at the threshold, a curious look on her face. He flashed a polite smile.

“I’m here to see Alicia. She asked me to come over.”

The woman’s eyes filled with surprise; she stared at him in silence, almost as if unsure of how to respond, but it didn’t take long for her to recover.

“How…how do you know Alicia?”

“I just met her last night,” Alex sheepishly admitted. “She talked to me at the park.”

The woman smiled.

“Not surprising. She did that a lot.”

He nodded.

“I gathered as much. Is she here?”

The woman’s smile faded; she took a deep breath, glancing away as she shifted uncomfortably.

“Alicia died early this morning.”

He froze, horrified disbelief instantly ripping through his stomach.

“What? How?”

“She was very sick,” the woman quietly answered. “A genetic disease.”

He blinked in stunned shock.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Your daughter seemed like a very special person.”

“She wasn’t my daughter,” the woman said. “I’m her hospice nurse.”

Alex barely heard her, his thoughts reeling. Sixteen hours—just sixteen hours separated him from the moments he had spent with a girl he would never see again.

An unexpected tear slid down his cheek as he turned away.

“I…I should go…”

“Wait,” the woman said. “Alicia left something for you.”

He glanced back in surprise.

“That’s impossible, I didn’t even know her―”

She disappeared before he could finish, leaving him standing on the concrete stoop, and when she came back, she was holding a small box.

“Alicia was special,” the woman began. “Always rambling on about the people she helped and all the places she left her shadow. She had a romantic fascination with it—she felt like she was changing the world in her own way.”

“Immortality,” Alex whispered, and the woman heaved an amused sigh.

“Exactly. She was lonely, though—she didn’t have any family, and her illness made it difficult to find friends. She was always inviting strangers to visit, but in the eight years since I started working here, nobody ever came.”

He felt a sob rise up in his throat. He didn’t want to hear any more, but he couldn’t make his mouth work to say it.

“She never stopped hoping,” the woman continued, her voice hushed as she gazed down at the box. “It was her favorite thing to dream about, that a passing conversation would leave a lasting impression on someone, so she made this a few years ago. She said it was a gift for the first person who accepted her invitation.”

She held the box out.

Alex hesitated for a long moment before finally taking it from her. He slowly opened the lid—a handwritten note was tucked inside, and he forced himself to breathe as he read the single sentence scribbled on the page.

The universe will always remember you—find good places to leave your shadow.

The words blurred together into a swirl of ink as the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over. He gulped and cleared his throat, struggling to control himself, only to feel his heart seize in his chest when he noticed what else was in the box.

“Part of Alicia’s inheritance,” the woman explained, gesturing at the bundles of cash. “Twenty-thousand dollars.”

“I...I can’t take this,” he choked out. “I don’t deserve it.”

She sighed.

“It’s my job to give it to you, what you do with it is your decision.”

She moved to close the door; a sudden thought flashed through his mind, and he quickly put his hand out to stop her.

“You said Alicia had no family?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Her things—what will happen to them?”

“They’ll be donated,” the woman replied.

“Everything?”

She eyed him in confusion for a moment, then her face filled with understanding. She reached into her pocket.

“Alicia would want you to have it,” she said, offering him the small notebook. “She’d be thrilled that you visited.”

The door closed.

Alex stood there in silence, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he tried to process what had just happened. The box fell from his hand and landed on the stoop, its contents forgotten as he focused on the book.

The black leather cover was soft beneath his fingers, polished over time by the hands of a girl he barely knew, and as he touched the tattered spine, he thought of what she had said about her father. He sighed. Now, there were two shadows of life imprinted on the simple binding.

“Three shadows,” he corrected himself, closing his eyes as he cradled the book against his chest. “There are three now.”

Copyright (c) 2021 by Christina J. Thompson.

All rights reserved.