My Shadow

By Matthew Spence

Day 1

I think it began this morning, though I can’t be sure. Time doesn’t seem to move in the same way anymore. I woke up late, rushed through my morning routine. Nothing unusual—except the mirror.

I don’t know what it was about the way I looked at myself today, but something was off. The reflection didn’t match how I felt inside. My face looked… strange. Like I was watching someone else’s life unfold in front of me. It wasn’t that I looked different exactly, but there was a hollowness there—a stillness in my eyes that wasn’t mine.

I shook it off. The morning was busy. I had to get to work, make coffee, get dressed, focus on everything else. But even as I went through the motions, I kept thinking about it. That feeling of wrongness.

I keep staring at my reflection now. Maybe it’s nothing, but I can’t shake the sense that it isn’t really me looking back.

Day 3

I saw her again. The woman at the deli. She was standing by the window, just like before. But this time, I stopped. I stared at her, really looked at her, and she looked back with a strange smile—too wide, too sharp. Her eyes were green, just like mine. Her hair was messy, just like mine. But it was… off. She looked like a reflection that wasn’t quite aligned with the reality it was supposed to represent.

I didn’t know what to do. I turned quickly and walked away, but the thought followed me all the way home. What if she’s me? I asked myself. But no. That’s crazy. I’m me. I’m real. Right?

I couldn’t sleep tonight. I kept seeing her face in the dark corners of my room. Every time I closed my eyes, there she was—standing just outside my reach, just beyond the light.

I’m being paranoid. But I can’t stop looking over my shoulder.

Day 5

I haven’t told anyone yet. Not Aaron, not anyone at work. But I’m starting to feel… watched. Everywhere I go, it’s like I’m not alone. I saw her again today. Not the same woman, but someone else—someone with my eyes. At the grocery store, a woman passed me, almost brushing my arm, and I looked up and saw her face reflected in the shiny surface of the canned goods aisle. Her expression was too blank, too familiar. And there was something in the way she looked at me—like she knew me, knew I was watching her.

And I’m sure—I’m sure—she didn’t even blink when I stared at her. She just stood there, waiting for me to turn away. And I did. I had to. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

But when I looked back, she was gone. No sign of her.

I feel like I’m unraveling. Like I’m disappearing.

Day 7

I haven’t seen Aaron all day. He left early for work, like usual. I used to look forward to him coming home—his voice, his warmth—but today I don’t feel anything when I think about him. I don’t feel anything when I think about anything anymore. Just this… emptiness that follows me everywhere.

I tried to call him twice today, but he didn’t answer. He’s probably busy. He’s always busy. But something inside me says he should be here. He should be with me.

When I opened the front door this evening, there was a man standing in the hallway of the building. He looked at me and smiled, and for a moment, I thought—No. No, it couldn’t be him. Not again.

But I couldn’t look away. It was the eyes. They were the same. I swear to God, they were the same eyes Aaron has. I couldn’t breathe.

I almost asked him if he was… I don’t know, if he was real. But I stopped myself. It’s ridiculous. He’s just some man who lives here. But why did he smile like that? Why did he smile like Aaron smiles?

I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go back inside. I feel like I’m becoming unhinged.

Day 10

I saw her again. No, them. More of them. More faces, more eyes that are mine but not mine. I don’t know how to explain it. I was walking past a window, and there—there she was.

She looked exactly like me. Same brown hair, same green scarf, same jacket. I stopped. I stared at my reflection, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell where I ended and the woman in the glass began. It was like we were the same person—no, not the same, but she was me in every way that mattered. She stood there, silent, as if she were waiting for me to make the first move.

I don’t know what to think anymore. How do I even know if I’m the one who belongs here? What if I’m the one who’s being replaced?

Day 12

I couldn’t sleep. I can’t sleep. There’s something wrong with the way the world looks at me now. There’s something wrong with the way I look at the world. I keep seeing them in places I know I shouldn’t. I saw a woman with my eyes in the reflection of a door today. She didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at me.

And I thought—she’s waiting for me to disappear.

I walked down the street, my heart pounding in my chest, and I saw another one. In a shop window. But this time, it wasn’t just a face. She was wearing my clothes. My exact outfit. I could feel my skin tightening, the blood rushing to my face in a panic, because I knew—I knew—this was not a coincidence.

The world is getting smaller. I’m getting smaller.

Day 14

I don’t know who I am anymore.

I went to work today. No one said anything, but I couldn’t stop feeling like they all knew. I’m not sure how, but they know.

When I walked into the office, I saw someone with my face sitting at my desk. Her eyes were wide and alert, like she knew the questions I was asking before I even asked them. And when she smiled at me, I realized—She is me. She is me now.

I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I stared at my face, at my eyes, searching for something that made sense. I tried to breathe deeply, but the reflection stared back at me, empty and hollow, like it had already made up its mind about who I was.

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. The words died in my throat. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Day 17

I’m terrified.

I don’t know where Aaron is. He left for work this morning, but he didn’t come home tonight. I tried to call him, but the phone just rang and rang. He’s been gone too long. He doesn’t answer my texts.

I looked for him everywhere. The apartment is silent. There are no notes, no messages. I haven’t seen him since this morning, and now, the shadows feel deeper, the corners of the rooms darker.

I can’t trust myself anymore. I don’t know if I am who I think I am.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for what felt like hours today, just staring. Trying to figure out if I was the one still here. Trying to figure out if I had been replaced without even noticing it.

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Day 20

I am no longer sure of anything. I look at the people I once knew—my friends, my coworkers, even Aaron—and they don’t seem like themselves anymore. There is something in their eyes that doesn’t belong. I’ve tried to reach out to them, to hold on to the familiar, but it slips through my fingers like sand. I think—I think—I am already gone.

I don’t know how to tell if I’m real or if I’m just another copy of the woman I used to be.

All I know is this: They are here. They’re everywhere. Watching. Waiting.

And I think, in the end, I won’t know when it’s too late.

Day 23

I woke up this morning and didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She was me, and she wasn’t.

I don’t know if I’m still me anymore.

I don’t know if I ever was.