“I have done it,“ she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see
the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it
reads. And beside it,                            P A T R O C L U S.
“Go,” she says. “He waits for you.”

the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk.
Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns
pouring out of the sun.”


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