“I would burn a city to the ground for you, if you asked me to,” I say. 

“I’ll bear that in mind,” she says, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Though I don’t think I’ve ever hated any city that much.” 

She thinks I am speaking in hyperbole, but I’ve done it. Mother taught me there’s no such thing as someone loving you, only someone loving what you can do for them. Which put me in a predicament when I fell to Earth, cursed to walk around in mortal form unless I could procure true love’s kiss. 

*

This short story was published in the cosy, slice of magazine ‘Tales and Feathers.’ An immortal being, more used to being used than appreciated, tries to puzzle out how to secure love.