Shadow

It raced along beside us, now horizontal, now vertical, as the bank receded and advanced again. Razor sharp in the crisp winter sunlight. Flickering and rippling it moulded itself, now to the grass, now the rough ground then swooping up to smear itself, serrated, along an old paling fence. So near I could have touched it – then gone again – sliding over the concrete and rusty metal and slowing to a halt, damping down the babble of graffiti which jostled for position on the station wall.