The Man Who Lived in His Shadow

For years, the man avoided sunlight. His shadow had grown larger than his body, towering over him like a companion with unspoken accusations. Whenever he stepped into brightness, the shadow stretched monstrously, reminding him of things he never wanted to face. So he hid in dim alleys and candlelit rooms, trying to shrink the silhouette. But shadows do not fade through avoidance—they grow. One evening, desperate and trembling, he stepped into the blinding light of the setting sun. His shadow expanded across the entire field. Instead of running, he walked toward it. As he moved, the shadow shrank, folding itself gently until it matched his body again. He realized the monster had never been the shadow—it had been his fear. From that day forward, he walked in sunlight without trembling, accepting that the dark parts of us only terrify when left unseen.