“Made you…something.” Ellis steps to the side, letting me see the center of the table. On it, glimmering slightly from the glow of the candles and fireflies overhead, is a glass heart. An anatomical heart. I pick it up gently, the piece fitting perfectly in my palm. It’s blue, and something within the substance makes it glitter in the light. “Ellis,” I say, at a loss for words. “My heart,” he says simply. “It’s yours.” My breath leaves my lungs.
