seven pounds

o1: heavy heart

"911 emergency."

"...I need an ambulance." he managed to croak out.

"I have you at 9212 West Third Street in Los Angeles." the lady dispatcher responded. He paused, a low sob reaching his throat before he spoke again.

"Yes, room number 2."

"What's the emergency?"

"Th...There's been a suicide."

"Who's the victim?"

"I am."

2 months earlier

"Ezra Turner.." Michael mumbled the circled name to himself as he looked down at the list of names he had laying on his desk, dialing the contact number he managed to find.

"I can have 4 new filets delivered overnight." the man spoke over the phone as Michael complained about the poor quality meat he had apparently purchased from them.

"Oh, no. No, thank you." Michael replied.

"Well how about--" the man started before Michael interrupted him.

"What's your name again? Ezra? Is that right?"

"Yes, sir. Uhh.. I'll just need your first and last name... so I can call up your account."

"You know what? Here's what I'm thinkin', Ezra. I think I'm gonna mail you the meat back... so you can see firsthand the type of dog food that you're peddling."

"Uh, that uh.. that won't be necessary, sir." he chuckled, "So how about we just start with your last name?"

"Brown. But hey don't even get me started on the pork, have you tried the pork?"

"Well.. no sir. I'm not much of a meat eater myself, but I hear really uh.. great things about the pork."

"Oh, so you don't eat pork at all?"

"No, sir."

"Are you Jewish? Is that why you don't eat pork, Ezra?"

"Can we uh... what's your first name, Mr. Brown?"

"Michael."

"Ah, okay." Ezra muttered as Michael heard typing on his end.

"No order for Michael Brown." an automated voice system spoke loudly, causing Michael to immediately smile in satisfaction.

He had the evidence to speak on what he had already knew. He could finally test Ezra. He had to. He had to know if Ezra was worthy of the gift he would eventually give him.

"Hold on, what was that voice?" Michael asked.

"I don't... I don't have an order for a Michael Brown." Ezra stuttered nervously.

"Ezra, what was that voice?" he said more assertively.

"What voice?"

"Are you blind?" Michael asked, already knowing the answer to his own question. Yes, Ezra was blind. He had been all his life, and Michael knew that. He just needed to see what kind of person Ezra was.

"E-Excuse me?" he sounded appalled, and Michael knew he was closer to getting what he needed to see. A reaction.

"You're kidding me." Michael chuckled in dry humor, "A blind beef salesman who doesn't eat meat? Now, that... That's rich. That is rich... Have you ever had sex, Ezra?"

"Did Lawrence in Accounting put you up to this?" he chuckled a bit.

"Because somehow I can't imagine the blind, vegan... beef salesman having sex." Michael stated, ignoring Ezra's question.