The Visitor

An intoxicated passenger who joined us for the ride, dressed unlike us and from a different world. He told us tales of prisoners and properties, we listened, I contradicted, as usual.

He spoke in a voice not known to the waiting staff, who greeted us with bows and wore robes of gold, our silken servant not native but familiar with our territory knew our stranger was not from so near.

As we settled at the end of the evening, the conversation drew to a close, our guest unburdened of his stories, his small dramas that life throws at all, sat silent and exhaled relief. Where he came from unhappiness is not allowed to exist.