I rise against the early morning sun, pleased that my Mover will be up soon. I move around independently around the perimeter of the small room before resuming my place next to my mover. Slowly, the large man, my Mover, sits up on his bed. I quickly follow him growing and bending my shape to match his. All my life this is what I have done. Moving my shape to mimic others. After all, that is what shadows do. Moving just as our Movers (the people we mimic) do.
Getting to breakfast is always a challenge. So few realize how difficult it is to master walking down stairs while trying to copy exactly what a large, clumsy man is doing. Especially when all you are is a dark blotch on the wall, only existing because of the large florecent lights.
My Mover coninues to make his way to the fridge. On his way, he stumbles and I don't catch it in time. Hope he doesn't notice his shadow didn't copy him. I could lose my job with that kind of mistake! I quickly recover from my mistake and catch up to him. He looks over at me, his shadow, and makes stupid figer guns, like he think that he's so cool pointing at a shadow. I resist the urge not to mirror him. He them continues to lumber his way to the fridge. He bends down, I bend down. He grabs a bright red apple, I grab my shadow-y apple. Man am I bored of following this square around. I couldn't wait until tonight.
