His Paper Heart ✓

•2|His Sense Of Humor

MY HEART IS WEAKENED BY A LOT OF THINGS. Like I said, fear is a complex, unpleasant emotion caused by three things. Dread; fear of the unknown, fear of the things we know but are so desperately trying to un-know, fear for someone else. Helplessness; enduring repeatedly painful and otherwise aversive stimuli yet we're unable to escape. Threat; danger. Weakened by extreme excitement, shock, stress because the left ventricle, one of the heart's chambers changes shape and enlarges, making it impossible to pump well.

It was supposed to be temporary. Until my doctors found out I was the host of another rare disease. For some reason, unknown to me, they call it Addison's disease. Fortunately, mine occurs by itself. Others are a part of a whole different disorder. My bodies inability to produce enough adrenaline at certain times makes me a ticking time bomb.

My legs dangle beneath the desk I'm sitting on as I rock them back and forth. I give out an impatient sigh, wondering when Didi will be done with the things she has to do so she can come for me. Despite the calming silence in the tattoo shop, I can tell I've overstayed my welcome with how the artist glares at me from the corner of his eyes. He's sitting on the desk too, occasionally humming to a song and exhaling when he realises that I'm still there.

I would describe him as drop-dead gorgeous but what does that even mean? Something different to each person I'm sure. 'Beauty they say, 'lies in the eyes of the beholder. He jerks his head back to remove the strands of brown curls that have fallen into his eyes. The lighting in the parlour is quite deceitful. His eyes look a lighter shade of brown when he's agitated; I would be modest and say they look like sweet caramel.

"Where did your sister go again?" he asks, breaking the calming silence between us.

"Her boyfriend cheated on her so she's going to sleep with his best friend."

I have this unspoken rule about dishonesty. Nobody deserves to be lied to. The few people who do are either dead, unborn or stranged to me.

He nods. "Couldn't she have chosen a less horrible way to rebound?"

"She's probably not going to enjoy it but she has to. It's kind of her legacy. Nobody takes advantage of Didi."

"I think she's enjoying it. She has been gone for over an hour," he states. "I have to close the shop so unfortunately, you need to go home alone," he adds.

Women are gifted with puissance. Superpowers that the average man isn't able to recognize as a benefaction, he sees it as our weakness, vulnerability and fragility, if you will. Our special aptitude for drama, tears and anger. We have the ability to over-exaggerate everything and make them believable to the opposite sex. I learnt this trick from my ancestors. The only way Eve had gotten her spouse to eat the forbidden fruit was by standing her ground, exaggerating the power of the fruit and throwing in a few tears. Poor Adam did not know what hit him.

I slide off the desk and ghost towards the door. "Okay, I'll most probably get murdered by a serial killer and what not but that's not your problem. I mean, it's not like I can see some random guy following me and misinterpret he's going to rape me which will lead to shock which will also lead to my syndromes acting up, which will lead to me dying in a gutter at the side of the rood, but hey, this stuff doesn't happen in reality. They're just make-believe in Hollywood."

He stares at me blankly for a while then nods again.

"Sure. Good bye." he waves.

"Aren't you going to offer to walk me home? What if I die?"

"Make believe in Hollywood." he shrugs.

"I might actually die."

"At least you'll go to heaven because you didn't get the tattoo." he smiles.