The Moon, Midas Aphrodisios, and His Golden Touch
"You're..."
"Midas," he whispered.
Fear pulsed through my body at the sound of his name. I knew the stories all too well, they were an environment of rumors that had weaved their way into the very fabric of my scars. His expression although hard, softened with pain at the anticipation of his own name hovering in the air. Oh no. I felt my heart respond with an ache. At the first sign of my weakness, my empathy, my walls flew up with a mess of thoughts and worry. Maybe it's all a part of his trap to make me feel sorry for him? My inner voice began speculating, protecting my unhealed wounds, my heart. Still, his pained expression at my reaction, softened the fear, my distrust momentarily.
