The hands held long locks, bending around her hands as natural as if the hard stone was real hair. The eyes pierced through the man, the cold stone seemed to see him transparently. The full lips seemed soft and warm but warning. The waist seemed to lean to the right. The sculpture seemed to be in motion of putting her messy hair up. The man, Pygmalion, sighed, looking away, as his fingers limply swept across the sculpture of the tall woman. He picked up the bouquet of roses and myrtle and a small clay cup of salt.

The city is alive on the street, colors of tapestries vibrate brightly and decorated lanterns swirl and shine. A nervous flutter hits the man. After all it's Aphrodisia, and the whole city is like a swarm of sparrows trapped in a small cage. Women teeter and wildly cheer, their gold and heavy tunics jangle as they wave foolishly. Pygmalion entered the temple and looked at the borders of the ceiling that were stained with the blood of Aphrodite's beloved dove. He hesitated but entered at the thought of the block of shaped stone at home. The drums in the streets and cries of the flourished women masked his small whisper as he stared towards the alter. A flicker of shame stops him from his true question but he continues with a smaller question, more expandable. His gifts of myrtle, roses, and salt was humbly given.

Pygmalion walked freely for an hour wondering if his wish would come true and his true love would ever be made real and complete. His steps thudded softly on the road and as he looked up he noticed he was back in his small house. Solemnly, he pushed the door open. Again his feet took him towards the statue. He softly kissed the cold stone lips. The hands pulled down her ribbon, and the hair flew freely in the hot wind. The eyes softly closed and crinkled, happily. Her lips became truly warm. Her waist seemed to straighten. Her hair hung over his shoulders.

"Galatea?" the man whispered, doubtfully but happily. An answer was given with an air of wisdom and peace and the shadows outside of their window showed the couple simply holding each other, her head on his chest, hands on each side of his face, and his arms around her, his head resting on her messy long black hair. Violet eyes flicker to him and a peach smile chuckled, and her eyes closed and became cold, cold stone.