It’s been a week since that fateful day, and now I just can’t stop thinking about her. Persephone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a beautiful name; have you?
When I plant my pomegranate seeds, I think of her.
When I harvest my wheat, I think of her.
Even when I’m feeding Cerberus and judging the dead, I’m thinking about her. The dead have been extremely lucky this week; not a single one has gone to Tartarus. Not even the murderer. They’ve all gone to the Elysian Fields.
Finally, I decide to visit my dear friend Charon for some advice. Murderers in the Elysian Fields do not turn out to be such a good idea.
Charon, of course, is working. He’s filthy rich from all the coins he’s collected from passage, but he says he loves seeing the world’s peoples and getting paid for it. By now, of course, he owns far too many plasma TV’s and convertibles for any one man, so he watches TV in his luxury cruiser, filled with the souls of the dead, complete with a bar and luxury rooms for me, one of his only friends.

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