By the river

He had no idea why he was there, or how he had got to that place.  He’d been there before, but not with these people.  He prided himself on his independence, on his inscrutability.  But not with them.  They were able to unlock something in him that he liked keeping shut.


“Smile”.  He made a face – faces like that were safer than real ones.  What was it that was different.  What could they see in him.  The river was slipping past, and his guard was going with it.  The buildings were immoveable.  All of a sudden, he was not.


He had raced through his life at the rate of knots – never stopping to experience it, always moving on, always seeking something more, but incapable of pausing to check if he’d already found it.


“Come on”.  He looked down at two small hands tugging at his, two small faces.  These were the ones making him stop.  These were the ones who were going to change him.

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