Shadow Man

An hour ago the sunset had radiated across the clouds, turning them a molten orange with bands of purple and pink. Now it's gone and I stand under the starless, moonless sky. There is no twilight, only blackness. Suddenly, I feel claustrophobic, like I'm in a cave. The low sky has become a ceiling of grey black rock above my head. Only when the first drops of rain hit my face and a burst of wind whip my hair do I realize that I am in the open. Pulling my hood up around my face I hurry the rest of the way to the coffee shop set on the street corner. The Night Owl Cafe, open 24 hours a day. A place where writers, and musicians congregate. The atmosphere is peaceful, with an undertone of creative chaos. My apron is hanging on the hook where I left it the day before.

"You're late."

Christine is my best friend, but she is constantly picking up my slack. It's not that I am irresponsible, just recently I lost my mom in a car accident and its been rough. "Sorry." I mumble and move over to my place at the counter. It was at that moment the man walked in. He had three day stubble and a neatly pressed suit. The kind you only see on high priced lawyers or gangsters. He took in the small coffee shop with a single sweep, his grey eyes settling on nothing in particular. His expression was emotionless as his eyes scanned the menu. After five minutes of awkward silence, I interrupted whatever was going on in this stoic mans head.

"Can I get you something sir?"

He slowly took his eyes off the menu and looked directly into my eyes.

Most people are easy to read, but there was nothing that could tell me anything about this young man.

"What do you suggest." His voice was pleasant.

I'll admit the latte is overpriced. I walk it to the table where the stranger is sitting. Which is in a corner far away from everyone else. The coffee sits prettily in a white china cup, a leaf pattern in delicate milky foam against the pale brown. He wraps his fingers around it. Slowly he lifts it to his lips and takes a sip of the hot liquid. The taste is bitter, I can tell by the way he subtly purses his lips. No complaint though, from the way he holds the cup, cradled in the palm of his hand, I can tell he enjoys the warmth emanating from it. Something about this man intrigues me. St. Baadic is a small sea side town. You know the small I'm talking about. Where everyone knows everything about eveyone. He wasn't from here. Dressed the way he was said he was a wealthy man, probably from New York City or LA. He sips it as if it were some kind of great luxury. He takes a bigger sip this time and lets the warm liquid sit on his tongue. There is a flavour there, once accustomed to, the bitterness steps forth shyly. It is this undertone that is so apparent in the aroma - you can't smell bitterness and so in the warm air of the bakery it is just as heady as the smell of baking bread.

As I went back to my work I kept glancing back at him. Something about him was off somehow. Mysterious and intriguing, dangerous, secretive. But here I am drawn to this aura.

The sound of the bell on the door jingling brought me out of my trance. He was gone, there was not a trace of the man. I quickly walked to the door and peered out into the street. Looking one way and then the other, nothing. He had simply vanished.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Christine looked at me.

"Nothing like that. Just had this strange encounter with a customer."

"Strange how? Was he too forward?" she smiled. She has a bad habit of trying to be a matchmaker and I keep having to remind her that I'm happily single.

"No, he just seemed mysterious. Like he was hiding something."

A couple hours later I gathered my stuff to head home.

(2 am)

The fog was thick as I stepped outside. My apartment wasn't too far, so I always chose to walk rather than take my car. As I was walking I felt this strange sensation, like someone was watching me. Quickly I scanned the surrounding area but saw nothing out of the ordinary. However, I still quickened my pace. I turned on my street and headed for my front door.

As I approached I saw keys lying on the sidewalk in a way they would when dropped from a height. I looked for any sign of a person, but all the windows above me were dark and shut up tight. I had almost stepped right on them before scanning the street for the owner. The only living thing besides me was a black alley cat that trotted as if the pavement was springy, her tail held high. She was a queen of the world temporarily disadvantaged, of that she was quite sure. I could see her feline pride bottled up inside, as perfect as her purr when she received the attention every cat deserves. She came up and rubbed her thin body around my leg. I never felt a cat more soft, nor eyes that reached in and grabbed my soul with such ease... so what could I do? I had never owned a pet of my own before. But there was no way I could leave her alone.

I had barely turned my back to the street when I heard footsteps approaching. Quickly I turned around, fully prepared to defend myself. That's when I saw the same stranger walk up. He was very tall, and his brown hair now messy instead of neatly combed down. His suit was replaced by ripped jeans and a black hoodie.

"I think you have something of mine."

"What would that be?" He was standing too close for my comfort. I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. I could see the freckles that spattered across his nose, and the stubble which helped softened the sharp angles of his face. There was no hint of a smile, he didn't seem approachable and didnt seem concerned whether or not he appeared friendly.

"The keys."

His voice was low now, almost threatening. Was he hiding something? Did these keys, that just randomly appeared in front of her steps, hold something sinister. I extended the keys towards his outstretched hand.

"How did these end up in front of my house?" I asked.

There was no response, he just turned and walked back up the street. I stayed there until I couldnt see him anymore.

"Should I be worried?" The cats velvety black ear twitched from my breath. I stepped inside and bolted the lock before any more strange things could happen.

Over the next week, I kept seeing him pop up in strange places. Everywhere I went he seemed to be nearby. Finally on the thirteenth day of seeing him, he approached me when I was sitting on a bench at the waters edge.

"May I sit here?"

"Of course."

He sat beside me and looked out over the water. He cleared his throat, and I looked over at him. This time I took this opportunity to study his eyes. The first few times I saw him I would have labeled his eyes as 'grey'. I guess on good days, if I was feeling a little poetic, I'd say they were 'silver'. Neither word did them justice. They were so solid, so bright and pure. The exact lustrous color of a polished shard of metal. If you looked really closely, you could see the swirls of glittering black onyx and tinges of blue at the edges. They were anything but boring or monochrome. They were beautiful.

"I'm sorry if I have in any way put you in unrest with my presence." he voice was gentle and kind.

"I guess I have just been curious about you. You are so secretive and distant."

For the first time he smiled. And it was then that I saw something in him. For the first time he let me in. I could see his heart. I could see the pain etched in his eyes. There was something traumatic that had happened to him very recently. That is how we are connected. Through our pain we found love. He leaned forward and our lips met.

He was the man in the shadows. My secret guardian angel. My shadow man.