This is my shadow, she has a name but I can’t tell it to you or you could steal her away and then I would have to wear iron shoes. I keep her in a drawer most of the time, with a brass lock, as polite people do, but sometimes she gets out, usually when I’m hurt or broken or lost and she thinks terrible things. She thinks dissapointment and doubt, she thinks fear and anger and she knows how to hate. They tell me we all have shadows. Some people wear theirs like a trench coat and that makes them scary. I fold mine up, when I leave the house, and tuck her in to my shoe. That way, I can pull her out when I need her. You can’t enjoy a good moonrise without your shadow.