The white knight
“You can’t park that thing there sir.” said the security guard. “What if it starts doing it business on the sidewalk?” The knight ignored him and leapt from his white charger.
“I have come for my princess.” he informed the guard in a voice like steel.
“Er, there ain’t no princesses here sir,” stammered the guard, “we’re an insurance company.” The knight briefly considered running the laggard through with his sword but he wanted there to be no blood shed, not on that day, not on the day he finally got to rescue his princess. He marched through the revolving doors and called her name.
“Have you seen what’s going on outside?” said another one of the PAs staring out of the window. “Some nutcase with a horse.” Her heart leapt into her mouth. Surely not, she thought, could that be him? Her knight from Facebook? Surely not. She had thought it had all been a big joke and played along with the knight in shining armour thing. It has seemed sweet and romantic and fun, but now he was there, she could hear him bellowing her name as he bounded up the stairs five steps at a time.
She hid in the bathroom until he had left, heartbroken and confused, galloping off down Madison Avenue. The security guard’s head rolled into the gutter, a look of surprise glued forever to his face.