She mused about how the old wisteria growing wild on the fence cast a shadow in the shape of a tall, broad shouldered man.

He stood in front of the fence, all of a sudden aware he was visible to her. If he moved, she would, surely, be startled; possibly scream. He stood still and hoped she’d look away soon. He had to get back.

She mused about how the shadow didn’t move in the wind with the rest of the shadows cast by the wisteria. She stared at it, as she sat in her car, smoking her organically grown cigarette, taking long drags and slowly releasing each one as she stared at the shape not moving. She studied the fence and the tree vine but couldn’t figure what exactly was casting the shadow nor why everything was swaying in the breeze but the shape didn’t.

He felt the tingle of the call. It was time to get back.

As she finished her cigarette, she wished she had more time to watch the shadow. That was too weird how it did not change. She turned away to walk into the building. She’d taken a long enough break.

He barely waited for her to shut the car door before he dissolved into mist and heeded the call.