Cupid peered into the mirror on the wall, then waved a hand over the glass. His own image–wide cheekbones, dark hair, sapphire eyes–dissolved, to be replaced by the image of a map. He moved his fingers in a weaving motion, bringing areas of the map closer, others farther away.
Behind him, reclining on her usual red velvet lounge, Aphrodite opened a magazine.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
Cupid frowned, studying the rapidly changing images in the mirror. “A few prospects.” He sighed. “People are so cynical these days. So wary. It’s not so much finding the right pairings anymore. It’s finding those who will accept that the love is true. Who’ll follow their hearts without question or suspicion.”
“The last couple broke up already?” Aphrodite sounded bored. Cupid turned to look at her. In her red dress, on her red lounge, with her jet black hair tumbling down over her shoulders, she was a brilliant island of color in the starkly white room. She flipped a page in the oversized magazine she was reading and gave him a look over its top. It was, as he’d suspected, a look of pure boredom.
“So few even believe in true love anymore. Particularly love at first sight.” He moved away from the mirror and lowered himself dramatically into a pure white chair near the one where Aphrodite reclined. “Some days it seems so hopeless.”
Aphrodite shook her head slowly. “In these days of instant communication, instant gratification, is it any wonder relationships end so quickly?”
Cupid wasn’t sure he followed her argument, but he listened. She seemed utterly bored and utterly sincere at the same time. And she was lovely. Not that he’d never noticed this before, but somehow today her red lips seemed fuller, her cascade of hair a richer shade of ebony.
“I suppose you’re right.” He reached down and picked up one of his many arrows from the quiver on the floor, twirling it between his fingers. “One would think, though, that there would be so many more opportunities to find true love, so many more ways to connect, so many more signals to send, that it would be easier to find exactly that one person who will stand by you and love you forever–“
Aphrodite surged up from her chair, fury on her face. Taken aback, Cupid stared at her, the arrow stilling in his fingers. And, before he could say anything, she had snatched the arrow from his hand and shoved it firmly into the middle of his chest.
Cupid stared at the quivering shaft embedded in his chest. The tip of it had pierced his heart perfectly. He felt warm.
“Why did you do that?”
Aphrodite still stood in front of him, fists clenched, fury on her face. “Because I’m tired of waiting for you to figure it out. My signals. My offers to connect. How many thousands of years has it been, Cupid? Honestly, how thick are you?”
Cupid blinked at her. She really was a remarkably beautiful woman. “My dear, I had no idea.”
“Well, now you do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping one foot impatiently. “So…are you going to kiss me, then?”
Cupid smiled. He’d never felt happier in all his long life. “Of course, my dear,” he said, and he kissed her.