Jaffe was thirty-two, an office worker, no longer called Jaffe by his peers, but it was still his name inside his head. Everyone else called him James now. But there were a gazillion other Jameses in the world and he wanted to feel just a little bit different. He worked in advertising, wooing new clients, wining and dining, with a gift of the gab.

In one of the weeks just before Christmas, Jaffe managed to knock off on time -- for once -- and he joined the many shoppers in the city streets, although he annoyed quite a few of them by not walking fast enough or by having no direction in his navigation -- they sidestepped him with exasperated glares and sighs.

Jaffe had no plans that night, and no one expecting him home at a certain hour, so he meandered through small city lanes and alleyways, discovering shops and bars that were new or were simply unnoticed by him until this eve. He came across an old city arcade mall -- a series of roofed laneways with Victorian-era shops -- that had been recommended to him by colleagues, for it housed the finest of all goods -- a Swedish chocolatier, a German diamond house, a Parisienne stationery shop, a British tailor of world reknown. As he wandered past an Icelandic jewelry boutique, he recalled an imaginary image that he used to sometimes see when he was young, of a small man, the size of his thumbnail, who was the King of the Sea.

He stopped, and hesitated, and went back to look through the boutique's shop window. The shop was full of necklaces, trinkets, earrings, and the such, but he couldn't see anything that would have triggered the memory of the small King. He hesitated again before sneaking inside the store, reluctantly, as if a shop assistant would know that he wasn't really there to shop. But the strange feeling grew stronger and he had immense faith in his instincts, so he stood defiantly in the middle of the store and ignored anyone who glanced his way. He closed his eyes and tried to locate or clarify the unknown sensations.

A shop assistant did ask him if he would like any assistance, and he opened his eyes. He was even more confused, because he was none the wiser than when he had walked past the store, but he had been suspecting some secret revelation would have revealed itself within a short amount of time. He asked the shop assistant her name, and she replied, "Ilken." He was gaining no clues. A second shop assistant appeared by his side, and the two lady shoppers in the store also stood before him, interested in his face and his manner.

It was when a fifth entered the store -- a lady of about fifty, with warm curls and an angora sweater -- that he had one further twinge of faint recognition -- the place, or the people, or the situation -- and he gestured for quietness from all. Even the newcomer complied without question. He asked her to step aside, and behind her, on a ledge along the shop window, were two ornamented ships, presenting jewelry from their bows and sails and beams. "I will pay for any repairs," he said, before snapping off a mast from one of the ships. At the point where the mast touched the surface of the ship, there was a small hole, and a small fellow pulled himself out of the hole, and stood aboard the ship, with one hand swiping hair away from his face and the other on the hilt of his sword. "Thank you," said the King. "Now I would dearly love a meal, if you would care to join me, and then I will leave tomorrow for the sea."

Jaffe nodded, and offered his arm to the King, for a ride. The shoppers and shop assistants politely introduced themselves and said hello. Then Jaffe and the King left for some bread, honey, hot chocolate, and a good night's sleep before their parting.