By the time I had finished digging the last grave, the sun was setting and the water in the air seemed frozen. It cut at my face as I walked back to the shed to put away my tools. I leaned to see if Petrov was crammed in the midget office on the way back to my bike. He was, light spilling from the window in the door. I debated on telling him I was leaving, but thought better of it. 

     I knelt beside my bicycle and began undoing the lock. Next to it on the ground was a disassembled flood light, something Petrov was in the process of fixing. The glass front plate and bulb had been removed, leaving only the reflective coating on the inside of the casing. In the corner of my eye, I could see myself reflected in it in color and shapes. Then, while flipping the last number in the unlock code, I saw a silent figure begin to slide up behind me in the reflective surface. 

     I sighed.

     Without looking up, I said, “Yes, Petrov, what is it?”

     Silence. My bike lock clicked open. Petrov’s rippled, shadowy silhouette hadn't moved to indicate he had heard, so I turned around.

     “Don’t just stand there--”

     I froze.

     The shed was empty. 

     Shooting to my feet, I leaned back, looking to see if Petrov was still in his office. And sure enough, light still pooled from the windows on his office and his enormous bulk was crouched over his boxy desktop computer.

     A chill ran up my spine and a sick feeling dipped into the pit of my stomach. I stood paralyzed, my back to the reflective lamp casing. I didn’t want to turn around. My whole body felt wound tight as a spinster’s bun. Afraid to close my eyes, I kept them trained on Petrov’s office.

     I could feel a cold presence behind me. Faintly, and distinctly different from the feeling I had in William’s creepy old house. It felt old, very real, and I could have sworn I felt frozen fingers on the back of my neck. 

     Then, as suddenly as a wind, I felt the presence zip away, and strangely, I felt hyper aware of every reflective surface in the shed as it passed through and disappeared. 

     I gulped, feeling the hairs that had raised on the back of my neck flatten and I could suddenly feel the heat from the shed’s overhead heating units blasting me from behind. I shook myself and blinked, hardly daring to turn back around. 

     Part of me was afraid if I turned back around, the shadow would still be lurking, shapeless and detailed in the reflective papering that coated the lamps casing. But somehow I knew  the shadow, the cold presence, was gone. 

     Still, I turned around slowly to retrieve my bike, heart trying to bash it’s way out of my ribcage. Sure enough, I could only see my hazy blocks of colors reflected in the lamp’s surface. 

     I couldn’t get out of the shed fast enough. I walked my bike brusquely through the graveyard, not caring that it felt as though my skin was getting peeled off my bones with winter’s frigid knives. I pulled out my cell phone and speed dialed Denny. Pressing the receiver up to my ear, I heard Denny’s phone ring.

     “Come on, Den,” I whispered. “Pick up…”

     It rang a couple more times, and each time my chest clenched harder. Finally, the ring before I knew I would be pushed to voicemail, I hung up. 

     Breathing hard, I slipped my gloveless hands into my armpits, my breath frosting in front of my face. My bike weighed heavy on my leg and I looked down at it, watching the rising moon reflecting in the stripped metal surface.

     I cussed.

     I was going to have to fix that. 

     Not caring that I hadn’t left the lawns of the graveyard, I threw a leg over my bike, pumping as hard as I could. The freezing, dead grass bent and broke beneath my tire, crackling loud in my ears. Every shadow from every memorial jumped at me, and I found myself anxiously flicking my eyes down to the moon’s reflection in my bike. Waiting.

     I couldn’t feel the cold presence of the shadow anymore, but I knew it wasn't far behind me. It was out there, lurking, waiting for me to slip up.