I have taken to lacing on my running shoes after

dinner and going out into the twilight for a walk.

The neighborhood goes dark as I walk, and a second

neighborhood unrolls atop the daytime one. We have few street

lights, and those I pass under make my shadow frolic;

it lags behind me, gallops to my feet, gambols on

ahead. The only other illumination is from the windows in

the houses I pass and the moon that orders me

to look up, look up! Feral cats dart underfoot, bird-of-paradise

flowers poke out of the shadows, the air is balmy.


Paraphrases from the story Ghosts and Empties by Lauren Groff.