I didn't make it to work the next day. I woke up on the couch at 6:17am. Same as every day whether or not I set my alarm. Whether or not I had a glass of wine or a bottle. Regardless of what time I went to bed. I'd been waking up within five minutes of 6:17 since school. I checked my phone. A text from Gwen.

Nooooooore! I miss you, grl! At happy hour now- call ltr? Then about one hundred emojis blowing kisses at me. Annoying. This was not the Gwennie I knew and loved. My Gwennie loved crocheting and writing poetry. Her bucket list included things like: "See Pentatonix live" and "Get my license" and "Learn to play guitar." Since moving out west she was a different person. Happy though. So good for her.

Eggs sounded good, but my pan still sat dirty in the sink. I dumped yesterday's soapy water out and thought about washing it, but didn't have the ambition. Instead I ate a plain untoasted bagel. "Worst. Breakfast. Ever." I said to my empty kitchen.

"No kidding," I imagined somebody agreeing.

There was movement by my hairline. A hazy black bulb that flickered, then disappeared. It gave me pause. I hadn't had a migraine in years, but that was sometimes how they started. With blurry colors framing my line of vision. It appeared again, arching around my face like a black rainbow. I pressed two fingers to my temple. No sign of a headache. Maybe low blood pressure? I froze for a few beats and when normalcy resumed, I gave my head a shake and pulled out clothes for the day.

I hate all my work clothes. They are garbage. We have to dress in business casual even though we never see the light of day in customer service. I do the bare minimum. Black pants, sweater. Acceptable to HR, does not require ironing. Win. Out of habit, I stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Ugh. I forgot to shower last night. Stringy black hair dropped down my shoulders and sat in pieces on my boobs. The whites of my eyes looked too yellow, my lips were chapped. At least my complexion was clear. For now. My pants hung looser than I remembered them fitting. I looked boxy. "Frumpy!" I exclaimed, pitifully happy to have found the appropriate word.

"Dowdy!" A voice came from nowhere. Anywhere. Somewhere that wasn't me.

My brain was fuzzy from wine and sleep. It was sending lethargic signals to the rest of my body. When I realized I wasn't alone in my apartment, I clutched my heart, like it was the only thing in the apartment worth stealing. Honestly, whoever it was would be better off taking the Keurig. "Who is that?" I practically sang it out. Politely. I didn't want to offend the intruder, bizarre as that logic is.

There was a giggle from someone who wasn't me. I spun around. When I circled back to the mirror I stopped. Where they should only be frumpy, dowdy (it was accurate no matter who said it) me, there was a cloudy black speck floating behind me. Still no migraine. So then, what? The speck expanded and wavered, then solidified and perched itself (herself) on the end table beside my living room couch.

She giggled again and I had to assume it was at my expression. My mouth was frozen at the beginning of a W question. "What?" "Who?" "Where?" But my lips were stubborn and stagnant in a whistling pose. The rest of me stood stupidly, a hand dangling mid-air, a foot awkwardly poised to take a step forward. When really, logically, I should definitely be moving backward. Away from whatever this thing was in my living room. Or was it in my living room? I must be dreaming.

"I know what you're thiiiiiinking!" Her i's were a playful little song and honestly, I wasn't in the mood. I managed to move my hands to my hips. "I'm not a dream! Everyone always thinks we're a dream. Nope, I'm the real deal, baby!" Then, the smoky black... vision? Apparition? Whatever it was stood up and shook her hips in a seductive figure eight like we were at a club rather than my living room at 7am on a Thursday.

Did she say 'we'? Is she doing the Charleston now? Maybe I've lost my mind. That last thought was the most comforting of the three. And the most likely, I figured. She motioned for me to join her dancing. At this point I supposed whatever she was, wasn't dangerous at least. I closed my eyes for several seconds. No giggling. I waited a few more heartbeats just to be sure, then opened them. Her cloudy face was inches from mine. "Boo!"

Then I did scream. "Get out! Go! You aren't... wanted! You aren't wanted here!" I was backed up against my mirror now. Tears welled up, which was how I knew the depth of my fear. I hadn't cried since...

"Hint. It wasn't when David dumped you."

Ohmygosh. She was in my head. "Get out of my head! Please!" My eyes held all the tears they could until a few jumped ship and dripped into my hair.

"Okay," her slender, opaque hands were up and she backed away as though my tears were holding her at knifepoint. "Okay. We got off to a rough start. My bad. Everything's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Are you sure?" Stupid question.

"Positive. I'm just here to chat, Nora."

"How do you know my name?"

"You're going to have a lot of questions. Let's start with your top three. Okay? How are you? Done crying?" I was. "Good. Now breathe in. Breathe out. Draw a square if you need to." My head whipped up to her. She was nodding like a waitress convincing me to get the pie. The square was a technique I used when I was younger and my anxiety would get the best of me. Before the ACTs, before Mackenzie Hall's slumber party, sometimes if I was simply running late for school. Instead of shutting down, the pediatric therapist (who I knew my mom couldn't afford, but somehow did) taught me to draw a square on my leg. Breathe in as you draw the first line. Hold at the corner, exhale as you draw the next line. Hold at the corner and repeat. I'd draw up to twenty-five squares on especially stressful days. I still drew them. Occasionally.

I shuffled to the living room and plopped down on my loveseat. The mysterious thing escorted me. I put a finger to my thigh and drew four quick lines. "Slow down," she advised me. Inexplicably, I took her advice. A slower square this time. Then a slower one yet. Finally, I felt equipped to look up. The thing shimmied a cheesy dance. "Better now?" she burst, like she'd been dying to say something. I nodded.

"Alrighty then! Hit me with your questions!" And just like that, my head swarmed again. Immediately she put her hands up. "That's asking too much. Too overwhelming. I get it. Just three then. More later, but three now." I like things in small chunks. Always have. That she would know that thing I barely realized myself was maybe the most bizarre thing about this.

"Okay. Three questions. One, who are you?" I was proud of my consecutive words.

"Great question!" She leapt up. If she were some kind of ghost, it was clear she was a cheerleader in her before-life. If she was a demon, she was the worst one the world had ever seen. Honestly, a demon may have been easier for me to deal with than a cheerleader. "I..." she paused for suspense. "... am Shadow #1!" Jazz hands. She sat hard beside me, deflated. "Lamest name ever, I know. The others have way better names." The others?

"My friend had a dog named 'Shadow. It's a good name." Shadow #1 brightened up.

"On good days I can convince myself it's mysterious and sexy," she said. I nodded again. This could not be happening. I did not have a... a something sitting in my living room confessing her name insecurity. That reminded me though...

"Well, then. May I ask what are you?" I supposed that was what I meant when I asked who she was. Hopefully she wasn't a genie and I was screwing up my three questions. If she offered three wishes, I vowed to do better.

"Ah! What am I? Now we're talkin', Nora! Now we're getting into the juicy details! Not only is my name Shadow #1, but I am a shadow." She emphasized the "am". I remained confused, if not quite as terrified. Before I could ask for confirmation Shadow continued, "It's much easier for humans if I tell you what I'm not, because really? You don't the first thing about shadows. Yet, anyway!" She winked a smoky black wink. "Here we go. Shadows are NOT ghosts, apparitions, angels, demons, fairies, spirits, or the grim reaper. We aren't magic. We cannot grant wishes, travel through time, heal you or hurt you." She put a finger to her chin and looked toward the ceiling. "That's pretty much it. Not an exhaustive list, but I think you get the point."

"But to answer your question, I'm a shadow. One of yours. Not like a replica of you, but I've always been around. Shadowing you. Obviously." She kicked her leg out at the knee in a cutesy little move. She had more cutesy little moves than a cartoon character.

Her explanation did help, but what was the point of the shadows then, I wondered. I couldn't find a delicate way to ask, so instead I said, "Why are you here?" Shadow was very expressive for being a black haze. She seemed to have expected that question.

"To check in with you. Talk with you. My particular role is introductory. Help you with the shock. Check!" She made a big smoky check mark in the air. It sat a moment above my rug before dissipating. "Answer your preliminary questions, blah blah blah. Stuff like that. Have a drink with you, meet your friends, whatever."

"Wait, what?"

"JK! Just that first stuff. And so far I think it's going really well. You?"

JK? My shadow said things like JK? "Good? I guess? But you keep talking about shadowS, plural. How many are there?"

"Like in the world? A million bajillion." She laughed. It was strong as a train whistle and dainty as a bluebird. "No, honestly, I don't know. But a lot lot lot. Everyone has shadows. Some more than others."

"How many do I have?"

"Mmmmm. Several? Many? I don't know the exact number, but it's a lot. Don't worry though, we aren't all coming."

I spun around the room. "Oh, not right now! You're cute. You thought we were going to have a big shadowy party in your living room? No, we'll come one at a time." What if I don't want you to?

"You may not, but it's good for you."

"You can read my mind."

Shadow smiled politely. "No. I just know you like really, really well. Don't worry about that. You can still have your secrets if you want, just not from us. Go! I'll wait here."

At her go-ahead, I practically sprinted to the kitchen. I was desperately thirsty. Dry as sawdust. I chugged a glass of water and refilled it immediately. It had been... gosh, months maybe? Since I'd had a guest. "Can I get you anything?" I yelled, stupidly. What the heck could a black cloud shaped like a peppy young girl need?

But Shadow acted like it was the most reasonable offer in the world. "No thanks, I'm good!" I topped my water off and joined her back in the living room.

I picked up where we'd left off. "So. How many shadows are coming to visit me?"

Shadow #1 shrugged. "Shadows stop showing up when you stop needing us."

"But why do I need you?"

"Why do you think you need us?"

"Ohmygosh, you're a therapist!" I felt tricked.

"A therapist?! Ohmygolly, Nora! I am completely unqualified to be a therapist. Don't you put that on me! Yikes! A therapist." She shook her head like I was crazy, and there was no doubt about that. I most definitely was. "No, it was an honest question. I don't know why I'm here, exactly. I'm just the opening act! I can speculate though..." She cocked her head, examining me as though sizing me up for a new hat. "Usually we show up when things need... tweaking. If a person just isn't his or herself. You know?"

"No." I was definitely myself. I didn't let my boyfriend dictate my hair color. I wasn't obsessed with making money. I didn't stress about how I looked or having an exciting social media presence. I didn't care what people thought about me. I was unapologetically me. So no, I couldn't imagine the shadows coming because I hadn't been myself. Shadow #1 and I stared at each other.

"Or it could be something else, completely! What do I know? I'm just here to soften the shock, tell you a little about us. Stuff like that."

"I see." What I could see was that she still thought I wasn't "myself." She was good at being diplomatic, but I was in customer freakin' service. I knew forced tact when I heard it. "Well, I should get going to work." I'd already be late. Carol would whine to Little Cut and I'd get another passive aggressive talking to.

"Mmmmm." A guilty shadow is really something to behold.

"What?"

"About that? Time works a little different with shadows."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You missed work." She pointed to my stove, which rudely informed me it was 9:29. The pm light was highlighted in the corner.

"Impossible."

"Sorrrrryyyyy!" Shadow's tone was the epitome of treacle.

"I thought you weren't time travelers!"

"We aren't! Time just sort of... flies by? Because we had so much fun?"

"Out! I need to... go to bed, I guess! I can't risk losing another day! If I lose my job because of this?" I'd what? Really let this dark mist-in-the-shape-of-a-human have it? To her credit, she didn't call me on my non-threat. Just pushed her hands downward to say, "calm down."

"Alright! Alright! I'm leaving! But Nora?" She held her arms wide now. "It was so great to meet youuuuu!" And she flung her arms around me and swayed left to right. In that moment she was solid shadow, rather than flitting smoke. My body jerked side to side with her. I smiled into what I guess was her shoulder because this was just how Gwen hugged. And just like with Gwen, I kept my arms stuck to my sides and rolled my eyes. I wasn't a hugger, but would allow a select few people to hug me. A very, very select few. Apparently Shadow fell into that category.

And suddenly I was smiling and rocking side to side by myself like an idiot. I looked all over for Shadow but she was gone. The silence was shocking. She was the loudest shadow I'd ever heard. That stupid thought made me laugh out loud. In doing so, I found I was exhausted. And thirsty again. After several more glasses of water I put my pajamas back on. I laid the same outfit out for tomorrow. Or... I sniffed the underarms of the sweater. Meh. It smelled like time did take its toll on my armpits.

I was prepared to lie in bed wide awake the entire night, but I fell asleep so quickly, so deeply, that I wondered if Shadow hadn't put some sort of sleeping spell on me. Despite her claims not to be magic.

The next morning I woke up at 6:17, well-rested and half-expecting another shadow to be sitting at the foot of my bed or looming over me when I opened my eyes. Nothing. I didn't doubt Shadow #1 had visited yesterday though. No part of me was convinced it was a dream. I had a feeling when I got to work, Carol and Little Cut would confirm I was not there yesterday. If I wasn't with Shadow, then where was I? Of course, I'd need a better story for them. Well, not better. There couldn't be a better story. I'd need a different story.

My egg pan still sat in grimy water. I did not feel one ounce of guilt about that. There was no way I could be expected to wash dishes yesterday when the universe hiked her skirt a little further up her leg and instead of simply seeing more skin I caught a glimpse of scales. Or fins. Or a holster.

Cereal. It was a dry cereal kind of morning, forsure.