He took her heart with him when he left. Gently, she supposed. He wrapped it in satin and wandered off so quickly she couldn’t have stopped him if she’d wanted to. She hadn’t. You see, he treated her heart like a silk worm. Something that, though mottled and ugly, was capable of producing soft, beautiful things. Soft, like the kisses he placed on her forehead before she drifted off to sleep. Beautiful, just like he promised her she was with enough sincerity that she believed. He took her heart with him but he left her the courage to love again.