Every day, she saw them out of the corner of her eye. A person, crowned, in robes of sweeping gold.
Sitting in the empty chair in her office, leaning in the kitchen doorway, standing in the cinema aisle. Always vanishing on a closer look.
She feared the royal, at first. They made a question of her sanity, or else of her safety.
But one week passed, then two, then ten. They became familiar. A company felt even when unseen.
At last, returning home with tears on her cheeks and a black feeling in her chest, she whispered to her empty home: ‘Are you there, royal?’
She thought she heard a whisper, but could not make out the words.
Staring forward, she reached out her hand to the glittering figure at the edge of her vision.
And felt a silken hand grip hers with a spark of something strange.
Maybe she should have been scared, but all she felt was relief that someone was there, and that they cared.
Image by LunarSeaArt / Ruth Archer, used under Pixabay License.