text: His name was Steve, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He pictured himself growing old with her, while she grew old with him too. But he couldn’t grow old. Being immortal had its downsides. Now was his seven hundred years birthday and he was staring at her picture. He begged her to come back. He thought he heard her voice when he shed a single tear and a slight breeze called him from the sea. **Two** He thought he heard her voice when he shed a single tear and a slight breeze called him from the sea. The windows of the room were open, and it would be a beautiful sight if he weren’t dying. But he was dying. He was alone in the room, with wires spread all along his arms, and needles through his skin. He had that heart surgery, but apparently that new heart wasn’t working either and no doctor was able to tell the reason. The heart was beating irregularly, like a disabled man trying to walk. The heart was broken, so they tossed it out. The man watched the sun go down as he breathed his last breath. **Three** The man watched the sun go down as he breathed his last breath. He woke up and the room was full of light. There was something unrecognizably fluffy under his feet, like he was walking on cotton. A woman dressed in white was staring at him. “Is she here?” he asked. “No, she’s not”. “Where is she?” “She’s never been around.” “I’m coming back.” “You can’t go back.” “I can’t stay here either. I have to go back to her. I have to go home.” She smiled. “Don’t be silly” she said. “Home is where your heart is.” **Four** “Don’t be silly” she said. “Home is where your heart is.” He smiled to her, remembering an old song from U2 that had a verse somewhat like that one. He was holding his sweatshirt - which he didn’t even recall having. It had been with her for months. -You sure you can’t stay with this? - He asked, shaking the sweatshirt stupidly - I won’t ever be able to use it again. -I haven’t stretched it that much. - She said, pretending to be offended and repressing a smile, which he noticed. -It’s not about that. There’s your perfume all over it. She blushed and her eyes filled with tears. -Nah, you’re gonna work it out. - Now she pretended to smile, repressing a tear. Which he noticed. -Yeah, you’re right. See you later. - He said unleashing a smirk. Once she turned her back, he started crying. **Five** Once she turned her back, he started crying. He couldn’t let her leave like that. He wouldn’t let her leave like that. -Please, please. - He yelled, running after her and grabbing her suitcases. - Stay. Please. -Not anymore, Henry. I can’t do this anymore. -I’ll change. -You can’t - She turned to him, picking up her baggage. - Neither can I. I’m sorry. - Her voice was hurt, and that was what truly hurt him. It cut his heart and soul and left him stranded by the door while she got in the cab and left. He would never see her again. **Six** He would never see her again, and that was why he was holding her so tight. -Do you swear you’ll come back? - She wouldn’t. -I do, honey. It’s only for six months. - It wasn’t. -Do you promise to remember me every day? - She wouldn’t. -Of course I do. There’s nothing or anyone who can get you outta my head. - There was. -No French guy? - No. -No, you silly, no French guy, or American guy or any other kind of guy. - Yes. -I’ll miss you. - True. -I’ll miss you too. - True. She had a nice life in Paris. **Seven** She had a nice life in Paris. She had a boyfriend and a dog; she was living with her parents and hanging around with good friends. Nothing could go wrong and she would never get hurt because she couldn’t feel anything. Till a night a guy came along, and he had a broken heart. She realized she also had a heart, and her heart didn’t fit in Paris. Then her heart didn’t fit in the world. But her heart fit on his. But he was broken, then so got she. Then he left her back in Paris, and she hoped Paris would be enough again someday. He left back to the world, wandering brokenly ever after.