Age creased the hands of the surgeon. A large build, tall, athletic, a picture of health. Without even the knowledge of his resume, his deep voice accompanied with a warm smile, he demanded the upmost of attention. But in this moment, weakness consumed him.
His knees, clothed in scrubs, bent on the surgical floor of the hospital. The bright lights produced a spotlight, the beep of the monitors was the soundtrack. His healthy body held all the weakness of the world in his hands.
Place your two fists together and you see the size of your heart. Held in his large hands were two small fists placed together. In his hands he held a red bleeding muscle. In his hands he held a heart, the human heart of a four year old little girl.
Little heart, beat. Little heart, live. Grow and smile and meet new people. Sound…
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