I came across a woman who kept tripping over her shadow.
If only it didn’t stand so close, she said, tripping over the shadow’s right foot.
She lifted herself from the ground and before she could hit full stride, the shadow tripped over her.
Fuck! It yelled. She keeps getting in the way.
It lay on the ground, grunting. I think I’ve twisted my ankle.
Here, let me help, I offered. The shadow was tall and spindly and so was relatively easy to pick up.
The sun went behind a cloud and briefly the two became one.
Then it came out again, and the pair went on their slapstick way, tripping and falling.
How they made it home was anyone’s guess.
Forgive me. I am not myself today.
I wasn’t myself yesterday either.
To tell you the truth, I’m really uncertain whether I will be myself tomorrow.
Or the next day. Or the next.
Where I’ve gone to, I just don’t know.
I have informed the police, the Missing Person’s Bureau.
They have put out an all points alert.
I take time off work.
I go looking for myself in bars, parks, in shopping malls.
I take photographs of myself to show them what I looked like.
Ugly bastard, someone quips.
Go easy, I say. He’s not a bad bloke once you get to know him.
The rest shake their heads sadly.
I go home, hang my hat on the rack and sit down morosely on the old lounge.
Ahh, there you are, I say, almost sitting on top of me.
I was here all along, he says. Where have YOU been?