something from the “i just wrote it, don’t know what to do with it, oh good, it’s tuesday” files:
the first heartbeat sent sputtering blood into bare-walled chambers, as if the absent-minded life-giver forgot to shake the bottle on its head a bit. that first drip echoing loud in the emptiness, then silenced by the whooshing flood hot on its tail. by the time the whole pumped steady, every vein from forehead to shin felt the stretch and strain of that first day on the job.
in a day, the beat fell steady.
in a week, the awkward beginnings were forgotten, and that heart straight strutted through the next twenty years of pumping.
a quarter-life later, the heart remembered at long lost last to breathe.