POV: Aphrodite
We stand in the Grove at the day's end, and the light is doing the thing it does in this hour — that slow amber dissolution where everything it touches becomes something between gold and grief, where the shadows stretch long and soft across the root-tangled ground. The air smells of green things, of bark and damp earth and the particular sweetness that the white flower gives off in the cooling hour. I breathe it in. I have been breathing it in for years and it has not stopped meaning something.
Both of us. That specific beside that the journey made.
