Atlas

I wake up every night, gasping and sweating. My ribcage heaves, crushed flat. It's like a bowling ball on my chest. An elephant. It's the heaviest weight you can imagine.

I wish I'd never answered that stupid invitation. They told me I was a descendant of the gods, that I had divine blood in my veins. They told me I should be proud. I had a heritage. All those children of Zeus and Aphrodite and Hermes, glittering with power and beauty and miraculous gifts.

Who was my father? I asked. What will I inherit?

Do you like weightlifting? they said.