Tracing the inscription with a finger, I smile to myself. When I was a kid, I used to think the sandstone slabs were gravestones and beneath the one I'm sitting on, a knight called Sir Humphrey was buried.
Before I learned who Humphrey Bogart was, the first Humphrey reference I had came via children's television. So in my mind, Sir Humphrey was always a bear.
I used to talk to him a lot back then. Asking him if it was cold under the sandstone, if all the other knight bears under the forecourt died in the same battle.
As I got older, it seemed a shame to lose the magic Sir Humphrey. I made a point of never finding out who he really was, so I could always think of him through my childish misconception.
He's been a good listener over the years, hearing my stories of lost toys, friendships and relationship breakups.
My fingers skip along the surface as I hear my name called. As I get up, I pat the stone fondly, bidding my old friend farewell. He's a funny old thing, is Sir Humphrey, my bear in shining armour.
15minuteficlets — word #71: falter