ringing Pavlov's bell

I'm being followed by the shadow, or rather, the notion of you. All week, you've been following me around. I get in the car, and you're sitting to my left, smiling. I wake up in the morning, and you're laying to my right (because you know I like to sleep on the wall side). I open up my email, and you've sent me something nice for no reason. You whisper to me during classes and work that you think I'm the best thing you have. We have all of the same things in common, and I didn't have to introduce you to any of it- we agreed on it all to start. We argue, but it's always a delight, because it ends in sincere apologies and a deeper appreciation of the right in each of us. I didn't have to do any of the work to find you- you just started following me around one day, you made the effort, you knew who I was.

I don't know your name. You probably don't have one.

You are real, aren't you?