Acheron is home to Cerberus, the Hound of Woe. He comes at me silently across the flood, mistakes and miscalculations shaped into a monster, and each head a horror unto itself. He is doubt given fangs: that ghastly introspective recrimination that rides my chest in the midnight hours, the desperate need to turn back the clock or cut out from myself the choice I made and leave it by the road. Acheron and Lethe are two sides of the same coin. If I had given up more to the last river, this one should not see me at all.