Safe Heart

I work at a bank. I wake up every morning, brush my teeth, get dressed, catch a bus, go to work. Every morning, every day. It seems I do nothing but work.

But I have a secret. I know a secret. It has to do with the bank.

Deep in the basement, where the safes are, there is one certain one that I'm sure hasn't been opened in a very long time.

And I know what's inside.

It's a tiny heart.

A teeny tiny heart.

I hear it beating sometimes when I walk past the safe it's in. Sometimes it will be beating quietly, and I'll crane my head and jam my ear up against the safe. Then I hear it beating...whoosh...bloosh...whoosh...bloosh...

Maybe that isn't the sound it makes, but I'm not sure how to explain what it sounds like with onomatopoetic words. If you want a more solid explanation, it sounds like your lover's heart when you're lying on the couch with your head on his chest. That's what it sounds like when it's quiet. When it's loud, it sounds like your own heart does when you suddenly realize you're in trouble, and have to run.

This is a very secure bank; nothing has ever been stolen from it ever. I don't know who is keeping their heart here, but it won't get stolen either. I kind of feel sorry for whoever it belongs to, though. I think they forgot about it; who would lock their heart up in a safe, in the bank where I work, every morning, every afternoon, and some evenings too?