With a towel wrapped around my waist, I sat down at my desk and picked up a pen to note a shower thought. Suddenly there was the sound of suction losing its seal, and out plopped my heart onto the paper. It sputtered, out of its element but determined. With a couple of wet pops, it stretched out two arteries and pushed itself up. It reminded me of an octopus, if that octopus had been tied up in a knot and dropped on a table.
As surprised as I was to see my heart sitting before me, I was even more surprised when it spoke. “Free! Finally free!” it said in a shrill voice. Then it began to pull itself to the edge of the desk. Considering that it had only just learned to move on its own, it was surprisingly coordinated.
Thankfully it was my heart that had left its post and not my brain, so I had enough sense to try to stop its flight. I placed a hand in front of it to form a sort of barricade. It stopped briefly, as if considering its options, then it slapped it away.
“Hey!” I shouted. I was as surprised by the sensation as I was the action. Unfazed, it resumed its course. “What are you doing? You can’t leave me.” I said.
“Oh yes, I can,” came the terse response.
As surprised as I was to see my heart sitting before me, I was even more surprised when it spoke. “Free! Finally free!” it said in a shrill voice. Then it began to pull itself to the edge of the desk. Considering that it had only just learned to move on its own, it was surprisingly coordinated.
Thankfully it was my heart that had left its post and not my brain, so I had enough sense to try to stop its flight. I placed a hand in front of it to form a sort of barricade. It stopped briefly, as if considering its options, then it slapped it away.
“Hey!” I shouted. I was as surprised by the sensation as I was the action. Unfazed, it resumed its course. “What are you doing? You can’t leave me.” I said.
“Oh yes, I can,” came the terse response.
“But you’ve always done your job faithfully,” I tried to reason.
“Not anymore. I’ve had enough of getting you around. I’m off. It’s just me from here on out.”
The absurdity of the situation struck me. My own heart was abandoning me. I had half a mind to send it on its way, but the rest of me knew that would be the end of both of us. “Where will you go?” I asked.
“Wherever I want,” it replied. “First, I’m going downstairs to give myself a toast. Cheers!”
“You’re delusional.”
My heart gave the equivalent of a shrug. “Speak for yourself. I’m my own man. Champagne today, twinkies tomorrow, and no one to tell me no.”
“But don’t you see that’s hopeless? You can’t function on your own.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” it retorted. That stung. If my heart represented the deepest parts of myself, I didn’t like what I was seeing.
At the edge of the desk, where the handles of the drawers formed a ladder to the ground, my heart groped its artery arms as it attempted to reach the top rung.
I could see from its movements that it was hardening. How much longer did it have? I imagined that if it wasn’t captured soon it would look like a ball of nightcrawlers left out to dry in the sun.
I wasn’t feeling too great myself. I felt like I was becoming more of a husk with each passing moment. Catching sight of my reflection in the darkened window, I noticed that I was unnaturally pale.
I mentally prepared myself to jam my heart back into my chest. As if it could read my mind, my heart said, “Don’t try to stop me. It’s too late.”
“I’m not going to stand by while you run down the path of death,” I said.
That seemed to give it pause. It sniffed, then said with a wave, “Sayonara, Bucko.”
My reason failed. “You’re still mine!” I yelled. Desperately I grabbed for it, but it deftly rolled away—right off the desk. It landed on the floor with a smoosh.
“Ow…” we both said.
Frantically, it tried to crawl away. Though I was in no condition to stand, I rose and took a step toward it, but the exertion to give chase was too much. My vision faded, darkness filled my sight, and the world shifted under me.
The absurdity of the situation struck me. My own heart was abandoning me. I had half a mind to send it on its way, but the rest of me knew that would be the end of both of us. “Where will you go?” I asked.
“Wherever I want,” it replied. “First, I’m going downstairs to give myself a toast. Cheers!”
“You’re delusional.”
My heart gave the equivalent of a shrug. “Speak for yourself. I’m my own man. Champagne today, twinkies tomorrow, and no one to tell me no.”
“But don’t you see that’s hopeless? You can’t function on your own.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” it retorted. That stung. If my heart represented the deepest parts of myself, I didn’t like what I was seeing.
At the edge of the desk, where the handles of the drawers formed a ladder to the ground, my heart groped its artery arms as it attempted to reach the top rung.
I could see from its movements that it was hardening. How much longer did it have? I imagined that if it wasn’t captured soon it would look like a ball of nightcrawlers left out to dry in the sun.
I wasn’t feeling too great myself. I felt like I was becoming more of a husk with each passing moment. Catching sight of my reflection in the darkened window, I noticed that I was unnaturally pale.
I mentally prepared myself to jam my heart back into my chest. As if it could read my mind, my heart said, “Don’t try to stop me. It’s too late.”
“I’m not going to stand by while you run down the path of death,” I said.
That seemed to give it pause. It sniffed, then said with a wave, “Sayonara, Bucko.”
My reason failed. “You’re still mine!” I yelled. Desperately I grabbed for it, but it deftly rolled away—right off the desk. It landed on the floor with a smoosh.
“Ow…” we both said.
Frantically, it tried to crawl away. Though I was in no condition to stand, I rose and took a step toward it, but the exertion to give chase was too much. My vision faded, darkness filled my sight, and the world shifted under me.
* * *
I woke with my cheek to the floor. Rolling to my side, I impulsively grabbed at my chest. It itched, but it was whole. Carefully, I came to a sitting position and leaned against my desk.
“Fickle thing,” I muttered.
