The little knight's dream

Little Martin had a recurring dream.

In his dream Martin faked an Arthurian knight. He seated proud in the company of the brotherhood of the round table. Succor deeds unto others faltered not.

The dream, however noble and grand in nature, always ended on the same disturbing note. Someone always managed to discover the child beneath the shining armour, his secret revealed, and a knight no more.

Martin would wake time and again from his dream in tears. No matter his deeds of kind, his age betrayed unforgivingly.

One day Martin made a friend. His best friend.

The dream recurred thereafter only once, but differed ending. Instead of wakening to the shameful parting of armour and title, Martin gladly abdicated both and arose with pronounced levity.

Something good

I met her by chance. Great photo, fun profile, friendly. Initially, sparse and sporadic conversations. Over time, electronic courtesy evolved into electronic friendship.

First encounters make or break. Our first face-to-face was pleasant. Dinner. No strings attached.

The friendship progressed confidingly. Our geographical separation became less obtrusive with every planned get-together thereafter.

Almost a full year had passed.

Somebody hurt her. Not physically. I discovered that her well-being mattered to me. I cared. This spurred me (to try) to aid her see the brighter side of things.

Things began to blur. Proximity began to take another form. The friendship had evolved once again.

Into what? I don’t know. But whatever it is, it's something.

Something good.