by Tammy L. Breitweiser
The average heart is the size of a fist in an adult.
She steps nose to nose with the mirror and studies the charcoal, violet, and crimson mark across her left eye. It matches the size of his heart. What she sees are her pores large and gapping. She would have to pick up some treatment. More soap too. She focuses her attention and fingertips and pat the swollen flesh.
Your heart will beat 115,000 each day.
Her heart thumps twice its rate as she listens to knuckle bones crack the wall and footsteps. The rhythm reminds her of a song she from her youth. The frames clatter to the floor. It will take some time tomorrow to find all the glass pieces.
An electrical system controls the rhythm of your heart.
She opens the sliding glass door in the bedroom and loops around the house carefully stepping with her bare feet. Down the stairs to the fuse box to control the blackness.
The first open heart surgery was in 1893.
The knife did not want to cooperate. She had not sharpened them in weeks. It was messy and she should have laid down a tarp. Next time. The mallet would have to do to get through the ribs. Sweat dripped from her nose. The curve of her back over him appeared as if she would embrace him.
The heart can continue beating even when it is disconnected from the body.
His heart beats in her cupped hands, liquid running down her arms and dripping from her fingers. It slows down. The bottom of her legs sit in a scarlet puddle.
I told him. I fucking told him.
Tammy Breitweiser is a writer and teacher who is a force of nature and woman of honor; seer of nuance; accidental inspirationalist; keeper of the little red doors, and conjurer of everyday magic who is busy writing short stories. You can connect with Tammy through Twitter @TLBREIT or through her blog https://tammysreadinglife.wordpress.com/.
(And check out Tammy’s story Explainable Earthquakes from the January 20, 2020 Weekly. – Elephants Never)
I really adore this work. It was thrilling and well as enlightening. Great piece!