“Meet me at the olive tree! Tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep!” Odysseus had told you that months ago, and now it’s become a nightly ritual.

The night was quiet, like it usually was. Sometimes you’d hear the occasional hoot of an owl, maybe the sound of the wind blowing. But, it was quiet.

You shut your eyes, sighing softly. Odysseus was late. He’s never late. Did he forget? Just as you’re about to sit up and leave, you hear footsteps approaching.

“Sorry I’m late.” You hear a familiar voice murmur as he sits next to you. You feel his fingers intertwine with yours as you turn to look at him.

“How was your day?” He asks you, the stars shining in his eyes.