Rain fell gently on the rooftops of the city, like a soothing veil.
But Kelvin knew this calm was only an illusion.
He walked through the soaked streets, his steps hesitant, his heart pounding, and the shadow lurking within him still present—silent, but alive.
It didn't speak today.
It listened.
And everything it heard, it digested.
He had only recently understood: his nightmare grew not only from his own fears, but also from those projected onto him by others.
Every sideways glance, every biting remark, every silent judgment fed the beast.
He recalled the scenes from the previous day. A random passerby, murmuring as they crossed paths:
— That one looks like he's about to snap...
In that moment, the shadow inside him had shuddered.
It had stirred, swollen, gorging itself on that sentence like a sweet poison.
Kelvin had felt his throat tighten, his heart race.
The voice hadn't stayed outside.
It had entered.
And it had echoed.
"He's going to snap."
"He's going to snap."
Again and again.
The nightmare repeated those words, amplifying them.
And the more he thought about them, the more he believed them.
That was the trap: in this mad world, words carried terrifying weight.
Words, opinions, insinuations… had become weapons.
Everyone's mind was a stage open to all, and everyone played the part of both actor and spectator in the internal dramas of others.
He stepped into a small café, seeking a bit of warmth.
Inside, the atmosphere was strange. No one spoke.
People avoided each other's eyes, as if afraid their thoughts might be heard aloud.
And they were right to be wary.
Kelvin sat at a table in the back, drenched, eyes fixed on the blurred reflections in the window.
A waitress approached, but her eyes avoided his.
She set down a cup of coffee without a word.
And in her glance, he read something.
Pity?
Fear?
He caught her barely audible whisper as she walked away:
— He has a shadow too…
That single phrase was enough.
He felt the shadow inside him jolt awake, rising like a beast that had been starved.
It coiled around his chest, hissed in his ears—delighted.
"They see you. You can't hide anymore."
Kelvin stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.
All eyes turned to him, and he felt the thoughts crash over him like acid rain.
Mad.
Unstable.
Dangerous.
The words weren't even spoken, but he felt them.
The shadow drank them all in.
He stumbled out of the café, breath short, hands trembling.
He finally understood the scale of the nightmare.
It wasn't just his shadow.
It was a collective poison.
An invisible network of judgments, unspoken attacks, mental aggressions disguised as whispers.
The entire world had become a mirror of fear, and the nightmares—like parasites—fed on the cracks in the soul.
Kelvin walked until he reached an old bridge, hanging over a canal where the black water seemed to reflect something other than the sky.
He leaned over, staring at his reflection, and whispered:
— If I'm condemned to live with you… then I need to understand you.
And in the water, his reflection smiled back.
But it wasn't his smile.
It was the shadow's.