Pawn shop

Footsteps echo

Steel crackles under a sweaty palm

The door swings open and bells tremble

A shadow is cast in the shape of an hourglass

Clocks tick by the seconds

Just out of synch with his pulse

The air is thick and musty

Sweat trickles down his brow

He can feel the air and hear the dust

Looking around, a scale winks at him

He steps over to it

Unzipping his jacket as he does so

His right hand disappears

Only to emerge with a heart

One that is in perfect shape

Yet its color is decay

The shadow is now gone

The man sets the organ in the tray

And the scale does not budge

The man musters a smile

For he now knows the price of love

2 comments

  1. Oh very well done. Beautiful phrasing, imagery and foreshadowing to a brilliant denouement. Fantastic. Thank you.

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