“Welcome, light of the Sun, the fairest/ Sun that ever has dawned upon/ Thebes, the city of seven gates!”
‘What in God’s name is this racket?’ Gwen jumped out of her made shift sleeping accommodation on the couch to watch a glorious sunrise accompanied by what sounded very much like an ancient Greek chorus.
“Sophocles,” a soft voice replied, so close she could feel its breath on her ear. She jumped off the couch and turned to face her morning companion.
“Antigone,” he clarified. “We haven’t been introduced, I’m No. 8.”
“Gwen. Whitman.”
“Hard name to live up to.”
She mumbled, feeling ridiculous to introduce herself to an element of the set of natural numbers, and couldn’t resist her curiosity.