Dear Sean,

It pains me to have to say goodbye this way, but I haven’t got much longer. I think you know I have an artificial heart. My real one gave out years ago. I was uninsured when I got the replacement and I basically had to lease this one. I can’t believe I’m telling you like this, but I thought I at least owed you the truth. Better late than never, right? I can almost see that sad smile playing across your face. Your face is what I’ll be thinking of when I go. I’m six months behind on payments and the company that owns this heart will be coming tonight to repossess it. I know–crazy, right? I can almost see the little hamsters in your head spinning their idea wheel crazily scheming up ways to escape this fate, but the truth of the matter is not only can they track this thing remotely, but they can shut it off, as well. If I go by the book, the contract guarantees a painless experience. Like dying in your sleep. Wow–I really hope that’s as painless as we all think it is. And yes, I have exhausted every financial and legal option available.

I’m sure you would’ve wanted to be here for this, but that’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you until now. There would have been no stopping you and I’ve heard so many stories about how loved ones and bystanders get seriously injured–even killed–trying to intervene in one of these repossessions. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me in my life and because of you, I can honestly say, I’ll die happy. How many people can really say that? Maybe I’ll find out in the afterlife! I know, I know–I’ve always chosen the most awkward moments to rely on humor. I’m sorry. I truly am.

By law they have to keep me in suspended stasis for 48 hours after removing the device. So, if you find a heart on your way home or somebody offers you one tomorrow, keep me in mind.

Yours for far less time than I would have liked,

Gretta

 

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