• When first you left me, I opened my chest with a switchblade knife and tore out my heart. I hid it in a shoebox beneath my bed, and--because empty spaces must always be filled up, else there is no telling what will grow there--I went outside and found an acorn in my yard, and put it where my heart used to be.

    Well, I hope you're happy now. I hope you know what's happened, because of you.

    It's taken two years, but yesterday, the damn thing put out a leaf.