Somehow, she always knew when I reached the shores of Ogygia. And she always knew it was me who was visiting, and not some other hero destined to steal and break her heart. She was always pleased to see me, always welcoming me with a genuine smile. After all, out of everyone else who found the island, I was the only one who returned. Perhaps that was the true reason behind her friendly smile and compassionate eyes, but some small part of me secretly hoped it was because she truly enjoyed my company. I certainly enjoyed hers.

As had become our custom, we sat on the beach as night had fallen - I preferred not to visit in the day, as my kinsmen did not approve of my visits to the isolated titan - and sipped ambrosia. Calypso sat beside me, her eyes focused solely on me as I told her of the outside world that she had not seen in so long. I liked the way that she hung on to every word I spoke, as if it were the very most important thing in the world to her until the next came.

"Hermes," she said, and already I could hear the familiar wistful tone her voice would take on when she asked to hear a story. "Tell me again of the skyscrapers."

Of course, I couldn't say no. I told her about them, as I always did, in great detail. She had the description memorized by now, I was sure, for if I left anything out, quite like a child she would interrupt. "And the pigeons?" she would say with imploring eyes.

And I would patiently reply, "The pigeons make their nests in the eaves of the skyscrapers, so they can listen to the mortals go about their daily business. They miss carrying messages, you know. I can understand - if I were a pigeon, I'm sure I would do the same."

As usual ,the night began to wane, and light began to peek over the horizon. We pretended to ignore it, continuing our talk until we felt dawn begin to warm our bare toes in the sand.

I stood, and extended a hand to help the delicate girl to her feet. I gazed into her eyes, and was, as always, struck with the sheer unfairness of such a pretty creature being tormented and locked away like this. Her gaze held mine, and the unspoken question hovered between us the way it always did - so torturous with its promises of bliss. But she didn't ask, and I knew she never would; that question was not meant for a god.

As always, it was difficult to pull myself away from her, but I offered the one promise I would always keep. "I'll be back."

And in her eyes, as I reached out to stroke her cheek, I saw what she needn't say aloud.

I'll be waiting.