Knight in Armour
The suit of armour has gone. I thought I’d be able to catch it one last time, but it turns out the exhibition finished yesterday, and it’s gone.
We don’t get a lot of exciting things to see in this town, so a visiting exhibit on medieval warfare is the height of excitement. I went back a few times, there was just something about that suit of armour that drew me. They had information about all the other pieces, but for that one, almost nothing. They weren’t sure even who it belonged to. It was a mystery. So little about my life here is a mystery to anyone, it was refreshing.
One night on late-opening I found myself there again, just looking at it. Then I heard footsteps behind me. A young man was standing there, looking at me.
“You like the suit?”
“I like the story.”
“You’ve been back four times to look at it.”- not a question. I don’t know how he knows.
“It’s a mystery. I like mysteries.”
He looks like he wants to say more, and it frightens me, so I look back at the suit. When I work up the courage to talk to him again, he’s gone.
I didn’t recognise him from around town. Later, when I look back at the leaflet, having returned home from the museum disappointed, I see his picture on the back. He was the curator. A big deal in the city, so it would seem. I try not to admit to myself that I went back that last time hoping he would be there. I wonder what would have happened if I had kept talking to him, but I don’t-can’t-know that.
It’s a mystery. I like mysteries.