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Ribcage

Saying I had given her my heart, is an understatement of Aztecian proportions. It was more like an escape; my heart breaking out of my ribcage, tumbling to the ground, and then, with leaps and bounds, jumping and rolling towards her.

Her curiosity was triggered. She picked it up with thumb and index finger and examined it carefully. A big joyous smile appeared on her face. Without hesitating, she pressed the blood-drenched — and still beating — lump of meat against her delicate frame, causing it to pop into her body. (Where it obviously belongs).