The Distance Between Two Shadows

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The road through the tallgrass curved like a slow question no one ever answered. Eli walked it barefoot, boots slung over his shoulder, coat light as a whisper in the wind. The dust carried the scent of iron and milkweed, and somewhere a cow bellowed like a lost horn player testing the key of loneliness.

They said the land was tired that summer—fields no longer remembered wheat, and clouds came only to look before moving on. Eli had once owned a farm out near Enid, before the soil began to rise into the sky. He swore the earth was trying to leave first, taking the air with it, leaving people to walk on memory alone.

He passed the same tree every day, though it moved a little each time. Some mornings it stood by the ditch, others halfway up the hill. Once, he found it standing behind him, branches twitching like fingers unsure what to do with themselves.

At noon, he sat beneath it, hat over his eyes, and the shade trembled with breath. The sound of flies grew thick, but when he lifted his head, the flies were small black notes hanging from invisible strings. They hummed a hymn older than drought, something that made the hairs rise on his arms.

Eli looked to the horizon. Two figures walked the same road—one ahead, one behind—but he couldn’t tell which was himself. When he stopped, they stopped. When he waved, only the shadow ahead waved back.

He tried to remember his wife’s face, but it came out as sky—wide, blue, uncertain. The thunderhead in the west curled like smoke from a hidden chimney. Somewhere, he thought, someone was burning time to stay warm.

By evening, the wind had changed directions again. He could taste salt, though there was no ocean. He kept walking, careful not to step on the edge of his shadow, afraid it might tear. The tree had followed him once more, now leaning into the light, its leaves whispering, You were never meant to stay still, Eli.

When night fell, the road glowed faintly—dust made of forgotten stars. He walked until he couldn’t tell if the sound behind him was thunder or applause.