He was an average man, the man whose heart now beats in my chest. A non-achiever. A non-event. He made no impression.
You can’t help but wonder at first, where did it come from? This alien organ within. Will it be like some late night horror flick? ‘They Gave Me the Heart of a Monster’. Would I turn into a serial killer? Would my name join the ranks of infamy though it was not my fault? It was my heart. My evil new heart.
Such were the nonsensical thoughts drifting through my drug addled brain in the hours following surgery.
They told me about him when I came to, showed me his photo. Not much to look at. A forgettable face. A forgettable man.
‘Ha!’ I thought, ‘this heart is better served in me. I am a businessman! Thousands work for me. Thousands hush when I speak. I am a man who matters. It was wasted before it came to me.’
Yet tonight I can’t sleep, no amount of bourbon helps. Tonight I wonder if I will ever do anything as important as that man did when he signed a card and saved so many people.