Aphrodite
Today, I was Aphrodite. The goddess, of love and desire and of the masses, of their comfort and tragedy. I broke off from my husband Hephaestus at last, after he promised not to kill and broke that promise, with more promises to be broken. I left Hades' embrace and memory to a death of his own making. I shut down Dionysus, who drank himself mad and out of the city. I followed Hermes out of Blair Mountain, Harlan County, with no more roof over our heads, but only as far as my road could take me.
When I smiled, it was slow and devastating, and I made people feel as though the sun was shining just for them. In these frost-buckled roads, my warmth was a blessing. It was also not enough.
It's 27th September 2026. There was no other Troy for me to burn.