A Truthfull Account of a Fictional Encounter

A fellow in a jaunty, silver cap walked down the street in my neighborhood yesterday. He had a silk bag slung over his shoulder and played a harmonica as he walked. I could see the holes in the soles of his shoes.

As he passed, I noticed that he cast no shadow.

Sitting on the subway, the same man entered the car I was in and sat right across from me. He had put the harmonica away, but was still humming a happy little tune.

I looked him in the eyes, and his humming stopped as he broke out into a great smile.

“I know you,” he said, his voice like ripping paper.

“Well,” I replied. “You passed me on the street.”

“That’s right, that’s right!” He shouted, startling an old woman two seats away. “You’re the guy with the funny brown cap!”

Indeed I was. As a matter of fact, I was wearing it right then.

“The Street’s been buzzin’ about you,” he continued, “I had to take a little look for myself. Seems alright, white socks, black shoes ok. Do you have a harmonica?”

“With me?” This conversation was making me nervous.

“Yeah.”

“Two, actually”

“Good Man,” he exclaimed, standing. “Keep it up. Before I go, you got any questions for me?”

“Where’s your shadow?” I winced as it tumbled from my mouth, too personal. Too personal by far. He gave me a wicked grin.

“Lost it in a poker game, Son. Take care.”

He stepped out of the car, the doors closing at his heels. The old woman he startled earlier glared out the window at him until we pulled from the station. I sat with my hat in my hands until my stop, and then I went to work.