The Stranger With No Shadow

Hanging out with my best friend on a lazy weekend, I flopped onto the couch, stretching out until my toes nearly touched the coffee table. Sunlight streamed through the window, making me squint and blink away the sleep still clinging to my eyes. I yawned so wide my jaw popped. "Last night I had the weirdest dream—some old dude on a black horse chased me around all night."

Mariah, my best friend, arched an eyebrow and scooted closer, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "And then what happened?"

I puffed out my chest, giving her a cocky little smirk—more American bravado than anything. "I ran so fast he never even came close!" I said, half proud... half still wishing I was back in bed.

Suddenly, a voice cut in from behind me, casual but way too close for comfort. "Maybe that old guy on the black horse was the God of Fortune."

My yawn died halfway out, lips still parted in surprise. I twisted around, giving the guy my best are-you-kidding-me glare. "Seriously? You trying to get smacked right now?" I shot back, half joking, but not really in the mood for some random’s weirdness.

He blinked, his eyes suddenly huge. "Wait—you can actually see me?"

---

Three days after my breakup, I met Mariah Carter for coffee at our usual spot—a little indie café with mismatched mugs and music that always sounded like it belonged in a coming-of-age movie. The kind of place where you could spill your guts and nobody would even blink.

"He moved on that fast?" Mariah asked, her spoon swirling her vanilla latte, her disbelief practically written in neon across her face.

I nodded, picking at the frayed sleeve of my sweater. "Yeah. His roommate said he brought a new girl to a party last night."

"No wonder he dumped you out of nowhere," Mariah muttered, rolling her eyes so dramatically I thought they might get stuck. The steam from her cup briefly fogged up her glasses.

She shook her head, lips pressed tight. "Guess he already had someone else lined up."

I waved it off, rolling my eyes right back at her. "At least he didn’t scam me out of money—just lied about his feelings."

Mariah shot me a look that said more than words ever could—classic best friend move. "You’re way too chill about this."

I shrugged, offering a wry, lopsided grin. "I never cry over love—just lose sleep over money."

Mariah let out a sigh, shaking her head, but I caught the smile tugging at her lips. "So you obsessed about money all night and lost sleep? Girl, you look rough."

I yawned, big and loud, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. "Didn’t sleep well. Dreamed some old man on a black horse chased me all night."

Mariah leaned in, elbows on the table, her eyes bright and curious. "And then?"

I sat up straighter, trying to look like I had my life together. "I ran so fast he couldn’t catch me!"

A low, slightly teasing voice drifted from behind me. "Maybe that old man on the black horse was the God of Fortune."

My yawn froze, mouth still hanging open. I spun around, napkin in hand, ready to throw down if I had to. "Seriously? You trying to get smacked right now?"

He shrugged, unfazed. Said something about how if it had been the Grim Reaper, he wouldn’t care, but since it was the God of Fortune, I should be more careful. The God of Fortune—like my own personal lucky charm! I couldn’t help thinking how weirdly on-brand that was for me.