flashquake Fiction - Silver Shadow by Debi Orton

flashquake
The Silver Shadow
by Debi Orton

I see you. You're right there in front of me. But the closer I look the harder it is to recognize you, my silver shadow.

When I think of me, you're not it. My mouth doesn't frown like that. There aren't dark circles under my eyes. When I think of me I see that picture from 1970. Me watching my friends playing the guitar, smiling, laughing, eyes crinkled against the sun.

How did that girl become you? I don't remember seeing it happen. It must have been slow, the transformation insidious. Maybe during all those years I gave myself over to parties and adventures. I wouldn't have seen them then.

I only recall looking at you once during those years, when a two-week drunk was winding down. My bones ached; even my skin hurt. In the ladies room, leaning on a sink and trying to decide whether or not to become sick, I looked up and there you were. For a brief moment I didn't recognize you at all.

That was the moment I thought I'd be better off without either of us.

I didn't notice you during the career years. I was too busy proving myself worthy of promotion above level to which everyone wanted to relegate me. Even in the bathroom, I didn't have time to do more than glance at you on my way out the door.

Now, you're the one that everyone else sees, what they use to judge me. But you're not me.

You're just that silver shadow.