I performed surgery on your heart, at night while you slept. I worked slowly so as not to wake you - a slow initial incision across your chest, and then a carefully, quiet sawing down through the layers of bone and tissue.
At one point, as I clamped off your arteries, you began to stir. I panicked and realized I should have thought of an excuse, some explanation that would have made sense if you woke and found me with my hands inside your chest. But I held my breath and waited and you slowly settled back down. If I had to explain it would be too late for surgery, anyway.
Once I’d removed your heart I sat in bed all night, alone, getting it exactly the way I wanted it. As soon as you opened your eyes I’d be able to tell if the surgery had worked or not. I put your heart back into your chest, sewed you up and laid down next to you, waiting for the sun to begin streaming through the windows.
- Kevin Fanning, “How I Cured Your Heart” (from How I Learned to Love You From So Far Away)