And Now, My Shadow

Today looked like every other day — I walked where the road forgets to turn, sun flat against my shoulders, shadow stretched thin behind me like something I owed and hadn't paid. Alone is a color too — grey, mostly. the color of a quiet, unaccompanied shadow. Then came a new morning. A new sun. And you. Not loud. Not sudden. Just — a Tuesday that remembered how to be gold. You did not fix me. You just stood close enough that my shadow stopped looking like proof of something missing. Now it moves to something — a music only it can hear, and where it was only grey, there is red in the footsteps, blue in the pause. A whole spectrum filled an empty shape.