She liked to watch the ghost shadows. No one ever saw her when she did it - for them, she was just another stranger going on her way somewhere. They were right so far - they only didn't imagine that she saw through them as their dark reflections were trapped in the glass surface, ghost shadows without a body under the cold and pale electric light. She could see shadows half-asleep and shadows fully awake. She could see moody shadows and shadows so light that they would likely shine were it not for the closing darkness of the wall beyond the glass. She could see loneliness, often sadness, seldom happiness, though it did happen sometimes. She could see fear. Of the unknown, of the next unseen shadow. She could see beauty, sometimes so incredible that even the artificial environment, with its pale light and surroundings, could not dim it - if anything, beauty was only enhanced in the shadow ghost, as beauty always is enhanced when one possesses the innocence of believing no one else can see it. She could see ugliness as well, and faces so vile that the shadows' dark visages made them grotesque. She saw everyone alike, and no shadow ever returned the gaze. She often wondered if one day, by chance, she would find a shadow staring back at them from the dark and the glass, and what would it meant.