The Man in the Glass

he cant sleep

so he goes outside

the cold feels heavier than it should

the streetlights leave pools of orange

on the pavement

with long stretches of dark between them

he walks through one

then the next

then the next

like he’s being counted

halfway down the block

he catches his reflection

in a dark shop window

it keeps pace beside him

silent

thin in the glass

he looks away

then back

still there

the longer he walks

the more aware he becomes

of small things

his breathing

his hands

the weight of his keys

the sound of his shoes

until every movement feels deliberate

like something he’s doing wrong

he stops

the reflection stops

he starts again

so does it

for a moment

he imagines leaving it there

walking away

letting it stand alone

in the dark glass

watching the street

watching him go

he keeps walking

but the thought stays

and by the time he turns for home

he isn’t looking at the road anymore

he’s looking for himself

in every window

half afraid

one of them

will be empty