Even gods must pay here!

In the heart of modern Athens, amidst the hustle of the Monastiraki Flea Market, a tall man in a linen shirt and sandals moved with purpose. His beard, silver streaked with gold, shimmered in the autumn sun. No one paid him much attention—just another tourist, they assumed. Yet, there was something in his eyes that held the weight of centuries. This was Zeus, Lord of the Skies, returned to earth, blending seamlessly into the crowd.

He paused at a stall overflowing with olives, figs, and herbs. The aroma of thyme and oregano danced on the breeze, as vendors shouted out their deals. Zeus, with his striking presence, approached the merchant—a stout woman with sharp eyes and a tongue quicker than Hermes.

"Five euros for these olives?" Zeus asked, his voice deep and commanding, yet softened with curiosity.

"Five euros for the finest olives in Athens," the merchant replied, folding her arms. "Or would you prefer the supermarket's lifeless kind?"

Zeus chuckled, the sound reminiscent of distant thunder. "Five euros is steep for a god, don't you think?"

The merchant raised an eyebrow. "God, are you? Well, even gods must pay here!"

Zeus smiled, leaning in. "What if I offer you rain for your fields? A gentle shower next harvest, enough to make the earth sing."

The merchant's eyes widened, recognizing the spark in his gaze. "Rain, you say? And who would control the floods?"

Zeus raised a hand, the sky above briefly flickering as clouds gathered and dispersed in an instant. "I’ve learned restraint over the millennia."

A hush fell over the stall. People glanced upward, wondering if they had imagined the sudden coolness in the air. The merchant smirked, tossing a handful of olives into a bag. "For that display, four euros. But no more divine haggling!"

Zeus accepted the deal, his laughter rolling through the marketplace. As he walked away, he glanced at the bustling scene around him—smartphones, buzzing scooters, and lively chatter. Though much had changed, the spirit of the agora, of negotiation, exchange, and connection, remained timeless.

Some things, after all, never die.