She stood near the edge of the cliff, wind blowing through her golden hair and looked up to see his face. Deranged, terrified. He was like no one she had ever seen before. And yet he was stunning.
"You have made me, what is your pleasure?" he stammered.
She was overcome, bewildered by the sight of him. How had she conjured such a creature? He was everything she had hoped for. His eyes were Nacre, his skin was alabaster, he smelled of musk and autumn leaves, his lips were plump raspberries waiting to be devoured . She touched him and a shiver went through her. Then she finally spoke.
"My pleasure? I have no pleasure. I am a tormented soul. Clearly, you will do nothing but torment me more, with your innocence, your beauty, your eagerness to please. . . "
Tears welled up in his shining shell-like eyes. "But why did you create me then?"
"So that I could see you destroy yourself. It is what they all do. It is what you will do. Finite creature. You will expire. How do you suppose you will come to your end?"
"But I have only now been given life. Why would I choose death?" his face was full of confusion and pain. The edges of his lips pushed down against his will.
A smile drew across her face. "You will choose death because otherwise it will choose you. You will die either way."
Sobbing and broken the shining specimen threw himself from the cliff.
And so Love turned back to her pillow and cried herself back to sleep. Perhaps her next dream would be better.