Shadowed ✔️

2: ¦ photography project Lucile Evans

Parking my car in an empty space just opposite my favorite diner I could think of nothing but my usual lunch order of fries and cranberry sauce. Opening the door I managed to drag my behind out of my car and across the street. Teaching almost double a dozen of cranky nine year olds from eight to three was fun but no fun.

I could already perceive the aroma of freshly baked pastries and I couldn't wait for one of those goodies to melt in my mouth.

The chime of the doorbell as I opened the door was same as ever. And the pangs of nostalgia hit me hard as I remembered how Cecile, Vincent and I strolled in here every single chance we had together all those years. Teenage and highschool days outside highschool walls were pure bliss.

I looked around the place and drank in the familiarity and peace Paty's Diner never failed to offer when one stepped in. Just like every good ol' day. Or so I thought.

One glance at my usual table - the one at the far end by the window- and my spirit dampened. It looked like it had been taken because there was a bag on the table.

Nevertheless, I looked on the bright side, colored my spirit and walked to the table. I wouldn't mind sharing it with anybody, I only hoped the feeling would be mutual.

It wasn't just any bag, it was a beautiful gift bag that looked like it had been forgotten not just dropped because none of the chairs was pulled from under table.

Wait! It probably could have been left here by some kind of terrorist.

What if it was some weapon of mass destruction, like a nuclear weapon.

I hated my panicky moments, more than I even hated my monthly periods sometimes. Who would cruelly think of blowing up a sweet place like this?

I should just report it, should I report it? Or take a peek?

Okay so I decided I'll just take a peek and then report it. I gently pulled out a seat as I carefully placed my handbag next to the gift bag and then sat down.

Tilting the bag to my side to ease my sight from afar I almost screamed at what I thought I saw. Almost immediately my eyes adjust to what it really is and the scream doesn't succeed in escaping my throat.

Am I the only one who thinks a camera kinda looked like a bomb? Or at least this one did.

But why a camera? Unpackaged, just in a gift bag. And wait, was that light? was it on? I pull out the camera and it was actually on. But probably sleeping so I just click on any button and it's display comes on.

For the second time in less than five minutes a scream threatens it's way up my throat but the bile that is already hitched there suppresses it. I zoomed in on the image on display and it was confirmed that my eyes were not playing a trick on me.

In the picture, there's a lady in a simple navy blue givenchy dress and she's standing outside her 2011 Honda Accord like she just got out or was about to get in. The wind danced in her long locks she allowed to flow and her make up free and not picture perfect face housed more than a million emotions. And she looked absolutely familiar.

I'm sorry, but did I mention that my favorite designer was Givenchy and I wore a simple navy blue knee length givenchy dress today? Or that I drive a 2011 Honda Accord?.

I know I have a twin, but Cecile and I are not identical. If we had been, there probably would have been two Cheeerleading captains, not a shadow of Cecile Evans on the bleachers and there definitely would have been two prom queens not a nerdy reflection of Cecile Evans who mistakenly gave her best friend the love poem she had written on their graduation day instead of her Valedictorian speech she wanted him to proof read.

And Vincent just freaked out. Never said a word, ran off too some football academy, never said a word, probably landed himself a spouse just like Cecile did, and has still not sent a word.

And here I am, eleven years later, still hopelessly in love with my married bestfriend. Because he's the only person that I knew truly appreciated me for me. Never minding that I couldn't even grace the list of the least beautiful girls in school.

I was staring right at myself in this picture which had been taken this morning when I'd just arrived the Elementary school I teach in.

I don't know what made me do it but I clicked the previous button and there was another picture of me outside Cecile's house. And so were the previous pictures mine also.

It was like a photography project Lucile Evans thing.

I didn't realize I was sweating till I came across one taken outside my house. This freak knew my house. And my sister's house. I frantically began back clicking again looking for something and my suspicion was confirmed when I saw it.

There was a picture of me outside my parent's house.

"Miss Evans?"

Startled I shot my head up and met the eyes of the pretty waitress that called my attention. She was one of my favorites here whom I didn't notice when I stepped in.

I plastered a smile on my face as I put away the camera from her sight. And when I permitted her to speak, I fell in total awe with how her words rushed out.

"em I'm really sorry miss but someone left this for you , you see," she handed me a clean white envelope as she continued her chatter "I didn't know you were here already I'd have come as soon as you came. Your bills have been footed with an exclusive order of extra cranberry sauce, just how you like it."

Wow. I think I was having a chest congestion. This was too much to digest. "Hannah? Do you by any chance know this person?"

"not at all miss, though he sounded like you two are quite familiar with each other. With the way he called your name, knew your favorite order and the gift he said he left you on your usual table."

He. It was a he. The freaking maniac and nerving stalker. I looked from the envelope to the camera then to Hannah. "please describe him"

"dark gorgeous hair, charming eyes that probably see through you into your soul and the most amazing British accent"

Oh wow, British accent. Definitely someone I've never known.

"Thank you Hannah"

After she smiled, nodded and scurried away I carefully unsealed the envelope bringing out a neatly folded piece of paper.

Did he actually perfume this thing? Mr Suave I guess. Behind the paper was an address and contact number.

And elegantly calligraphed on it were words that though had no clear meaning, didn't seem to come from a serial killer.

Lucile, your presence in this world overshadows every other. Even mine. But for that same presence, I'm in existence.