The room a sky, an expanse, a horizon filled in blue with white clouds and today, rising into the horizon a thousand hot air balloons, each so brightl... colorful in the sun. Your words floating into my consciousness as I touch you, here… there, softer, faster. Each utterance more urgent as the jets roar in a bright flame and the balloon surges upward, ‘…faster, yes, yes faster, higher, yes I’m…,’ coming from below – another balloon, fiery bright pink, gaping open, wanting. And suddenly it was. And he hates her. Hates how sure of herself she always is. How tall and proud she always stands. How their father chooses her in all things.But most of all, he hates how much he desires her.Her long, straight hair is brown and dull, forever braided and coiled on the back of her head, with only a few wisps of loose strands to show any sign of winsome femininity. Her chiton is plain white linen - no doubt to brandish her virtuous purity - decorated with just a handful of small, silver clasps down. More

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