The Keeper of the Heart

Not so long ago, a young woman's heart wanted a special man to possess it, to hold onto it for safekeeping. The woman gave the man her heart in a jar and said, "Please take good care of it." He took it, and for years the heart was happy to be owned by the man it loved. The man talked to the heart every day. He took it with him outside often, to show it his garden, and sometimes he'd put it under the rain so the heart could hear the pitter-patter upon the top of its jar. And the heart swelled with glee to be loved so tenderly by the man, and it pumped, as alive as it had ever been, each time he picked the jar up to admire it. It was, after all, his little heart, and he was extremely proud to call it his own. Often the heart would skip a beat just to hear his voice say, "Hello, my precious heart."

One day, however, the man began to lose interest in the heart. He started to leave it inside the house, on a dark counter top in the kitchen, forgetting to bring it with him outside into the garden. The heart sank, and felt a loneliness more profound than it had known before it had been given to the man. It missed the sound of his voice, and pined to feel the pierce of his blue eyes once more.

Every night the man would walk through the kitchen, and he'd pass by the heart without even glancing at it. He failed completely, now, to notice the heart. This went on for months, until finally the heart lay still inside the jar, completely broken.