Foundations of Friendship
Protocol
His hand shakes a little and he looks nervously at the spectators.
I silently tell him not to worry, that he will do fine, but I am not allowed to speak those words. Protocol demands that I keep my tongue.
He bows before me, as protocol demands, and instead of smiling at him I nod, again: as protocol demands.
He moves to his position, aims and shoots.
And I wish to jump up, forget all protocol , beam at him and shout proudly: "That is my son! My son!"
As ever I wish I could be his father, not his king.
