I couldn’t miss the sunrise. I was leading it. And oh, Apollo driving his chariot across the sky to bring about the dawn was luminous. Before Eros was born, he’d long been glorified as the most beautiful of the male gods. Everything about Apollo was gold, as he held the reins of his four fiery horses. His golden hair, almost fiery itself and ruddier in color than the soft yellow or dark blond of Eros and Hermes. His sun-kissed skin. His gleaming eyes that glowed like Poseidon’s blue, their own separate little suns. He was clean-shaven like the fairer gods, for surely the rest of him would
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