[ WP ] You live in a world where people 's shadows show who they truly are at their core . Some shadows look like monsters , some look like animals . You are the only person in the world with no shadow .

Maybe a bit late, but eh. 
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 I like to think of myself as a trustworthy man. 
 
 Perhaps in the eyes of our society, I am far from, but I would like to think inwardly that a friend could come up to me, and trust in my possession an object of considerable worth, without the fear of it being stolen. Of course, like any sane Snake would, I would take it, claiming that maybe a man came along, and, at gun point, took it from me, myself profiting greatly from the interaction. 
 
 However, as ( un ) trustworthy as I am, even a disgustingly sly man such as myself would never hope to trust the shade-less. I think I am right in this unjust prejudice, as perhaps it is not as unjust as one may think. 
 
 It started mere hours ago, with one of my best costumers coming into the store: Frederick, the Bull. He lumbered, looking half-asleep, towards the Alcohol section, once again preparing to buy three to four cases of beer to satiate his deep-seated dissatisfaction with life. 
 
 As the burly man stood before the rack where his favorite beer was located, he let out a low, whiny grunt, unlike him. The rack was entirely barren, somebody having to have come along and buy all of them just prior to when he arrived. He swiveled, slowly, to look at me, both anger and disbelief in his eyes. Slowly, but surely, the words jumbled from his always slightly-open mouth, 
 
 “ Why is there no beer here, Sam? ” 
 
 “ I tell you, Fred, your unnatural lust for that stuff is going to kill you, ” I say as I walk past him, milk cartons in hand, preparing to begin my nightly stocking of the shelves. 
 
 “ I told you to at least save a case for me, Sam. Why do you never do that? ” 
 I shove the cartons into their respective areas, turning quickly, and approaching the cart containing the newly bought stock. 
 
 “ I don ’ t save, Fred, and you know this. ” 
 
 “ But you promised, Sam. ” 
 
 “ I promise a lot of things, Fred, ” I said as I ducked into the chips aisle, organizing bag after bag of the disgusting stuff in the rows. I would never touch them, considering the sheer amount of additives, but the bags flew off the shelves like they were going out of style. 
 
 “ Sam, I can ’ t keep going on like this. I need that beer. I… I just can ’ t live without it at this point. ” 
 
 I turned to look the bullish man right in the eyes. “ Fred, you will not speak like that in my establishment. Listen, I understand that what you ’ re going through is hard, ” I said as my hands returned to sorting the sweets at the register, “ But you can ’ t seriously expect me to fuel your addiction with a clear conscience. ” 
 
 Frederick let loose another whiny grunt, and slowly he turned towards the door, not even bothering to look just beyond the rack at the others types of beer. “ They just aren ’ t the same! ” he ’ d say many a times when they ran out of his favorite brand. 
 
 As he approached the door, the shade-less walked in. 
 
 It was as if the place dropped 15 degrees. I immediately turned, trying to keep the look of slight disgust, and slight fear, off my face. The man didn ’ t stop to say hello, or ask for help, or any of the sort. He simply plodded forward, his lack of a shade chilling me to the core. 
 
 Frederick dodged around him, trying obviously not to appear chilled by the odd man who just entered the store. He mostly failed, his face contorting in every which way, before he quickly left the establishment. 
 
 As the shade-less came to a stop before the dairy aisle, he snapped to look at me, his movements defined and vigorous. 
 “ You! ” he snapped, having seemingly no patience for my sheer existence. 
 
 “ Yes, sir? What is it you require? ” I tried to my greatest not to bend my words into either a sneer, or a whimper, but it got caught in a middle ground, coming out somewhat whiny, and unintelligible. 
 
 “ I ‘ require ’ milk, 3 %. Do you carry any? ” His voice seemed to lessen for a short time, his eyes still as steely and unforgiving as before. Perhaps he wasn ’ t soulless, but merely angry, perhaps at himself, or perhaps at life, for cursing him the way he had been. 
 
 “ Sadly, ” I said, mustering what sadness I could into my voice, “ We just ran out. I can get you our special 2.5 % brand, but we are officially out of 3 %. ” I hardly understood how anybody could stand milk any higher than 2 %, but as more and more Cows and Pigs were beginning to pop up, the fattier brands of milk were becoming more popular. What could a shade-less want with fatty milk? 
 
 He merely grunted, shifting his attention to the cart of new stock. He approached it, firmly, quickly, having already planned out his next few movements. 
 
 As somebody who once took up the art of thievery, I distinguished what the man was about to do right away, and immediately my hand moved to the emergency button, my fingers gently preparing themselves upon the top of it. 
 
 Sure enough, the shade-less man gripped the entire cart, and with one swift movement lunged forward, planning to push the cart through the now opening front doors. I pushed down on the button hard, hoping that applying more pressure would make the doors close faster. 
 
 Sadly, the man managed to get the cart at least stuck in the doors, which caused them to open again for a split second, before attempting to close again. I began to move towards the man, but he timed his push perfectly, slipping between the doors that came to a complete shut. I cursed violently, running my way over to the phone behind the counter, immediately dialing up the police. 
 
 Why ever did I not put that “ No Shade-less Allowed ” sign on the door? 

