The Beating Heart

Here we have the original short story I wrote upon which I based the script of my story in the play "Threesome" in DLSC.

The Beating Heart

It all happened so fast. One minute he was walking down the street looking for a coffee shop, then the next he was clutching his heart in pain. Only, it was not there! He felt no beat, but was certain that he was still alive. Ian McKenzie lost his heart.
“Not again,” said Ian, clutching the spot where his heart used to be. He sat down the curb and tried to think. He had it when he left his apartment, when he rode the bus, and up until a few moments ago, he was sure he had it.
“Well, best not to think about it right now,” he said to himself. “I just hope it won’t turn up in the trash like last time,” he added wistfully. With that, he stood up and went to school as usual, humming a song that only he knows, for a girl he can’t even remember.
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It all happened so fast. One minute she was walking down the street looking for a coffee shop, then the next she was clutching a heart in her hand. She only noticed when she turned around the corner. Violet Anderson just stole someone’s heart.
“Oh,” she said, surprised at the beating thing in her hand. “This hasn’t happened in a while. I wonder whose heart this is.” Shrugging, she slipped the heart in her handbag.
“People come looking for their hearts everyday. I’m sure he’ll find his way to me. Until then, I guess I’ll keep this safe for him.” With that, she hailed a taxi and went home.
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Ian spent the morning in class restless and distracted. He barely heard a word his professor said. But then again, he never actually listened. It was all too boring really. Plus, when someone steals your heart, you won’t be able to focus on anything. He knows this fact cold.
“Really now, I should know better,” he said to Nobody. “This has happened twice already and it never goes well for me.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic. Take the chance. Find your heart’s desire,” answered Nobody. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ian tossed his head back and let out a sigh. “The last time, I found my heart in a dumpster behind a 7-11. I don’t need to find it in a blender to learn my lesson,” he answered. Then he added, “What do you mean my heart’s desire?”
“Think about it,” pressed Nobody, “You want something more from this life aside from all the pain you hold deep inside you. It’s your desire to find someone new. Your heart just, well, it decided to find it for you.”
“Really now, this is all so stupid. But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“That’s the spirit…”
With that he leaned his head against the window and gazed at the view, wondering where his heart is, while all the time, his seatmate looks at him with a puzzled expression in his face, and mutters. “Whew, Ian is still talking to himself. Honestly, he should get help.”

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Violet spent the morning painting in her balcony. In it, she paints a hilltop bathed in a golden sunset, with birds flying overhead, a boy she doesn’t know staring from the canvas at her, with his hand stretched out, as if pleading to have something back. She took no notice of this.
She slept the whole day after that and woke up around six in the evening to get ready for work. She bathed, then cooked cordon bleu for her dinner. She was about to take her first bite when she heard her doorbell ring.
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Ian stood outside the door wondering if this was the right place. Somehow, he was confident it was. It was his heart; Calling for him to come, to answer its call.
The moments it took for the door to open seemed like an eternity for him. It was all too much, so fast, and he wasn’t ready. He never was.
“Hello there,” said a voice and he snapped out of his thoughts.
Ian stood face to face with Violet. They stared at each other for a while, not saying anything, only looking at each other’s eyes, lost in the deep blackness of them.
Finally, Ian spoke. “Have you my heart?”
Violet felt something hurt deep inside her and answered, “Have you mine?”
Ian felt something beat inside his chest. “Yes, I suppose its right here,” he said, his hand touching his chest.
Violet smiled, “Then keep it. I’ll take yours for now. Take care of it, will you?”
“Of course. Shall I see you in the morning?”
“I suppose you shall,” answered Violet, who closed, the door, humming a song that only two people know, for a boy who holds her heart like she holds his.