As it was years and years ago, the barge glides along the canals of Hebden Bridge. Surely but agonizingly slowly, the boat cuts a path across the murky waters, conveying its passenger safely through.
Many pairs of eyes stared fascinated as he sat perched at the forefront of the boat. He was wearing casual clothes, looking plain and ordinary in his black parka and well-worn jeans. Yet there was an air of dignity about him, as though he were descended from a line of royalty long lost and unremembered. As he nibbled on his cold cut sandwich, he could not help but feel that this boat was his own private kingdom, and the waters subjected to his dominion.
Settling comfortably into his seat, his noble eyes deigned to rest upon a couple strolling along the street. And he remembered her. And suddenly he wished that his private kingdom wasn't so private, or that his dominion wasn't so lonely.
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