Kneel. Stand. Run. It doesn’t matter. I will find a way to loom over you.

I have no castle. No loyal subjects. No army to enforce my rule. What I do have is a throne. A massive, ornate, absurdly heavy throne—and I take it everywhere.

I have set it in the middle of a marketplace, demanding tribute in the form of confused stares. I have dragged it onto a fishing boat, issuing decrees to seagulls. I once planted it at the entrance of a bakery and refused to let anyone pass unless they presented me with an offering of croissants.

What am I? A man? A vampire? Something far worse? Speculate all you like—it won’t change the fact that I will place this throne exactly where I please, sit upon it like a god, and watch as you question your own sanity.