Disconnected from himself you could say
Shadow would be inclined to be more forgiving of what he is
so that's what he does.
A simple purchase, quite rather to be sure.
A new identity for himself and no one else - to be cherished among the tendrils of fantasy in his most private of sanctuaries.
Where his dreams hover above him like impending rain.
A portal.
A doorway of aided-imagination reflecting not just how he sees himself metaphorically, but literally how he would like to.
Chilidogs are an acquired taste, he thinks to himself as lumps of meat and bean spill from his consumptive orifice and matting the fur on his chest.
He'd have to get that shaved, soon, so he could feel the globs of chili plopping onto his tender nipples, physics or god willing.
But no-one could ever know.
Deep within the recesses of his eyes burns the reflection of himself through cerulean glass - transforming him into someone who has forgiven himself.
Someone who's cool, confident, and has a little bit of an attitude.
A name on the breath that passes through his lips.
A single tear falls from his eye, unnoticed by the hedgehog he is pretending to be.