Shrine

I find a tear in the fabric of reality, and tug at the seams to let myself through, tunneling through to a deep abyss. Far from the current moment, the flames are as they are and take the form of the dragons and demons I know only from memory. The great burden of the past weighs on me, but not as it used to. No one should have to carry their own corpse.

A voice calls to me. Aphrodite. The most neglected of them! There she sits across from me at Génoise, crying a single tear, having her coffee and smiling through the bitterness. “Always so selfish,” she says, less accusing me than jotting down a diagnosis. “Have you considered how much I wanted you to be happy?”

I saw her struggle, and it confused me. Was I worthy of love, of beauty? Why would anyone, let alone an angel, sacrifice themselves for me? Something like that belonged in fairy tales, not in whatever world I made my home. Standing from the table, I say: “Let’s get some fresh air.”