Mr. Thomas Ainsley is blind. As a bat. He lived in the dark glimmering lamplight of a decaying London street, where the fog was virtually continuous, heavy and low. Not that any of that made a bit of difference to Thomas, he was used to the cold and damp, and dingy wasn’t a concept he was familiar with. He was often out and about though, his cane clicking hard on the cobblestones, its pace solid and unhurried. Nobody had a clue where he went on his walks, but he seemed to just appear here and there around the neighbourhood. People thought he was a man of deep contemplation, lost in his thoughts but despite giving the impression of being away with his dreams he was, nevertheless alert to the familiar sounds that filled the air in the streets of his little backwater of the ancient city.

Thomas, despite all appearances, was not alone. A man walked next him in perfect step, although no one else seemed to notice his presence. Edward was Thomas's dearest friend and had been for as long as he could remember. Edward was softly spoken. As softly as the night breeze, with words that always seemed to arrive when Thomas needed them most, words that provided clarity in Thomas’s hidden world and guided him through the labyrinth of dark pathways. Out of what seemed long habit, Edward spoke only to Thomas

Despite their strong relationship, Edward seemed a little odd. Thomas didn’t mind, he was entirely at home with Edward’s oddities. But in all the years they had spent together, Thomas couldn’t recall ever hearing Edward's footsteps, the swish of his coat, or the rustle of cloth as he moved. Thomas had lived all his life in the world of sound and, as a result, Edward's silent motion seemed strange sometimes, not that Thomas dwelt upon the matter much.

One evening, as they walked through one of the myriad of small city parks, the autumn leaves crackling against Thomas’s boots, he turned his head slightly to Edward.

"You've always been there, haven't you?"

"Always," Edward said, his voice as familiar as the touch of his own fingers on his face. "I wouldn’t leave you alone."

Thomas smiled. "It is a strange thing. Sometimes I wonder what you look like. I never ask, of course. I don't want you to think I'm curious, but I see you as a big man with a strong face, possibly a bit of a rogue. "Am I close?"

Edward chuckled, but there was something in the sound that seemed to catch in the air, like a breeze diverted by a brick wall. "Very close”.

As the weeks, months and years passed, minor things began to accumulate in Thomas’s thinking. In the market, where he frequently stopped to listen to the hustling traders, he overheard a youngster ask her mother, "Who is that man talking to?" Her mother's response was quick and dismissive: "There is no one there, love." Poor man must be doalali tap.”

It bothered Thomas, but for many, many years he said nothing about it to Edward. But eventually, slowly, a realisation began to creep up on him. He felt a chill steal into his mind, like a winter wind slipping through an unlatched window.

Uncertainty has a way of burrowing into even the most stable of heads. Like a worm working through a barrel of apples. When others passed, he became more attentive to their conversations. He heard their whispered voices and faster steps, as if they were hurrying past him, desperate to escape some invisible harm. On one such night, beneath the weak glow of a moon he couldn't see, Thomas stopped walking completely.

"Edward," he whispered quietly, "I want to ask you something. Do others see you?

There was a stillness. Drops of condensed fog dripped from the streetlamps. A door opened and closed somewhere not too far away.

"They do not”.

Thomas stood still. "So why is that? Why don't they see you?"

Edward sighed, and it was the sound of years upon years. "Because, Thomas, I am not as they are."

Thomas’s heart thudded inside his chest. "What do you mean?" he said quietly.

“I am Unseen, Thomas”.

"But if you are unseen, do you mean invisible? Why am I able to hear you? Do you actually exist?”

"I choose you, Thomas. In your world of darkness, I became the light. To everyone else, I'm nothing. But to you, I am real.”

"All these years, you have been with me...an invisible friend, a ghost in the darkness. Am I a madman then?”

Edward said nothing. Then, “You are not mad.”

Thomas raised his head, the cool night air gently caressing his face. "Then let it be as it is, invisible or not, you are my friend, and with you I do not walk this path alone."

The blind man and his unseen friend walked the fog-shrouded streets until the day the fog was gone.