Henry took his heart down from the shelf and blew the dust off. He shook it, checked the fluids, then put it back on the shelf.

It called to him as he sat up in bed, as he worked at his job, as he tried to listen to his wife telling him about her day. He’d nod to let her know he was listening but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. What could he do? He had no free time.

Every once in a while he took it down to fidget with it, like he wanted to today, but most of the time he couldn’t even look at it. He knew as soon as he got started, something would call him away. It happened every time.

What’s the point?  It ate at him.

His wife complained when she saw him with it. What good is a dream when you have mouths to feed. She didn’t understand. He wanted her to believe in him, that he could make it work. If he could, he’d leave his job and devote himself to… but he loved his family more than anything. He had no right to complain and maybe he was crazy. It was just his heart.

He took one last look, closed the cabinet, then went to take out the trash.