Before she could dismiss her thoughts as childish, a thin man wearing a dark hat rounded the corner and strolled down the cobblestone street toward her. His lanky body moved with fluid ease as he whistled.

Mesmerized, Andrea barely noticed her newspaper flutter to the ground. Hadn’t she just been reading about herself? Remembrance tilted her equilibrium and she gripped the table for support. Somewhere, carnival music played and lent an ethereal quality to the lanky man’s stroll. He caught her gaze and an easy smile lit his face. She cleared her throat and used her free hand to don her huge sunglasses. The dark shades, unwelcoming, obscured most of her face. The last thing she wanted was company.

Andrea had worked hard at alienation in the last few months. Her classic beauty – dark hair, full lips, naturally arched eyebrows and high cheek bones – usually drew attention, and she had tired of it. Emptiness... that’s all the strangers ever lent her.

The canopy above the lanky man’s head flickered in the slight breeze. He held the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger. An old-fashioned sort of gesture. Strange. Andrea’s eyes narrowed, noticing people with umbrellas milling past him. She peered skyward. No clouds. Why the umbrellas?

The lanky man moved through the crowd, his eyes flashing from one face to the next. She absently wondered if he were looking for her and then dismissed the odd thought. She was here to be alone... not to meet people.

When she was about to turn back to her tea, a balding man paused before him, his umbrella lowering. Andrea leaned forward, noticing the balding man’s vacant stare. She frowned, not liking how the carnival music heightened. Where was it coming from? And that roaring sound... like the ocean? When had that begun? The lanky man thrust his hand inside the balding man’s chest – buried to his wrist. Andrea gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The balding man’s ribs burst open beneath his coat, revealing a mechanical heart. She could barely hear the whirring motor in his heart over the music and the roar... but she could hear it. Even from this distance.

Her legs wouldn’t move. She glanced around, trying to see if someone else noticed. They hadn’t. The balding man pressed his chest closed and moved on. Panicked, she reached for the teacup and took a long sip. Something metallic hit her lip and she quickly withdrew the cup. The lanky man shot a look at her before she could investigate her cup. Something dark crossed between them and she looked away, cursing her feeble sunglasses.

He reminded her of something she wished to escape. Behind her eyes, she saw Frank, her husband. How beautiful he was... and yet their marriage was as dark and empty as the space between her and the lanky man.

She looked up again and found the lanky man hovering over a round-shouldered elderly woman. He smiled down at her, caressing her cheek, whispering. The whispers filtered through the carnival music, dimmed only by the roaring ocean in Andrea’s ears. Somehow, she longed to hear what he was saying to the woman, as if it would pertain to her. Without warning, he thrust his hand inside her chest. Her gnarled fingers twisted around her umbrella, desperate, groping. It fell from her and toppled end over end until it landed in the bubbling brook. The elderly woman’s eyes didn’t possess the vacancy of the balding man. Her eyes flashed with passion and pain. Agony.

This time, no ribs split open to reveal a mechanical heart. Instead, the lanky man’s hand came back wet with blood. The coppery scent wafted over the outdoor café mingling with the sweet scents of pastries and cookies. Astonishing. The woman tipped forward and fell down at his feet. Andrea’s fierce grip tightened against the table, the cast iron biting into her flesh. A lump grew in her throat as she watched the older woman spasm on the cobblestone.

When she looked up, the lanky man stood three tables away, his pale eyes exploring her. Up close, his face, intelligent and handsome, looked welcoming. No wonder no one seemed afraid of him. Unnerved and avoiding further eye contact, Andrea sipped from her cup again, and again something metallic hit her lip. A blink of silver winked from her cup. Long fingers drew the cup away and set it down. She didn’t need to look up to see who stood above her, but she did anyway.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he bent and whispered against her ear, stroking her cheek.

His warm breath, alluring and sweet, caught her as off guard as his genuine smile did and she almost nodded. Until thoughts of the balding man and the older lady flashed through her. Adamant, she shook her head while eyeing the table. She wouldn’t look at him. That was dangerous. As if he could read her thoughts, he chuckled and sat down next to her. He placed his hand over her hand, the one holding the table.

“Why don’t you let go?” he said, caressing her hand.

“I... I can’t,” she said. “I’ll fall if I do.”

He laughed. “How ridiculous.”

“I’m not letting go,” she said.

“You’ve always described your life as a strange carnival, haven’t you?” he asked. She swallowed. “One moment you’re on the street, the next you’re off on some freakish adventure, going to town to town to town. Should have never married him. The list goes on.”

Nausea rolled through her stomach. How could this man know about her life? She took a breath. He reached up and removed something from above her head. An umbrella?

“Where did that... ” she began.

“You’ve had it all the while, but now it’s time to let it go. You don’t need the protection anymore,” he said laying it aside and scooping up the paper from the ground. He spread it before him.

“Are you ready for your new heart?” he asked. “One that will numb your pain?”

“What?” she asked, risking a look at him and regretting it. He grew more attractive by the moment.

“You can stop the pain. Let me help. I can help you let go. I can equip you with the heart of your dreams. One that will never yearn or desire. Wouldn’t that be great?” he asked, his eyes alert and imploring.

Silence.

“Isn’t that what you’ve craved for so long?” he asked, digging inside his pocket and withdrawing a mechanical heart. “There’s not a button on this heart that can inflame all the pain you’ve suffered. It’s impervious.”

She swallowed, knowing very well that she had craved this very thing. But now, sitting here with this mystical man, she wasn’t so sure that’s what she wanted at all.

“I don’t think so,” she said, tightening her grip on the table.

He nodded toward the paper. “But you’ve already taken the steps to ensure it.”

She looked down at the headline. “Local Woman Shoots Herself in the Heart.”

Comprehension hummed just below the surface. She clenched her eyes closed. The gurgling sound from the bubbling brook slowed. Just a trickle now. And the carnival music faded. Bizarre. Yet the ocean roared on... .

The pressure of his fingers plunging inside her heart stole her breath. Her heart contracted inside his cold hand with slow, interrupted thuds. Distance, loss, and heaviness roared through her. Her eyes flashed open.

“And besides,” he said, dipping his free hand into her tea. “It’s too late for anything different.”

He withdrew a bullet from her teacup and she lost balance. She flailed and tipped backward from the chair, crashing onto the ground, crashing into reality and onto her living room floor.