I wake up. Aphrodite is next to me, asleep. Even in slumber, I notice how exquisite she is—whereas Annie tells me when I sleep I sometimes snore and occasionally drool. Aphrodite’s lips form a perfect bow, her eyebrows are an elegant arch. Her skin is flawless. I realize now that she’s ageless. I can’t tell whether in her mortal form she’s twenty-five or thirty-five or forty. She has not one wrinkle. And yet, her confidence is the confidence of a woman with wisdom.Annie yawns and stretches. Then she realizes Aphrodite is right next to her, and she tries to be quiet and move as little as possible.But Aphrodite’s eyes pop open. They are as glittery and alive as sapphires under light. I guess she never really tires.“Good morning, my angels.” She reaches out her arms and gives each of us a squeeze. Then she furrows her brow. “Did you sleep?”“Yeah,” I say. “But I didn’t dream. Not that I remember anyway.”The three of us get up. Annie and I wash and brush our teeth and get dressed.
