Three Great Hearts:

A Compelling Love Story

“Ah, I am ill,” She announced to no one as she arrived at work, and she was fortunate that no one heard. It was a darn weird thing for her to say. Weirdly worded, too.

“Oh, but I am so very ill,” she continued. She was even more fortunate that no one was around to hear that one, because that one was even weirder. What she really had to do was be quiet and go inside so she could get to work. There’s no point in describing her job, just that it is really ordinary. There’s even less point in describing the building she was walking into, it was even more boring.

Fortunately for her and for everyone else around, she didn’t say anything else weird (Well, she didn’t say anything, period) for…for a while at least. She went on an aggressive hunt to find someone to listen to the full explanation of her illness. So that particular person was not so fortunate.

The unfortunate person was a coworker that the weird woman barely knew. She just happened to be sitting in the break room, about to bite into a chocolate covered donut. She was really focused on the way its yellow flesh pinched as she bit in, the way the glaze cracked and stuck its flakes to her face and the way that the pale yellow filling pressed outward wherever it could, threatening to drip everywhere. In other words, she didn’t see or care that her weird coworker was sick, and she really didn’t care to hear about it. Too bad for her, she heard it, anyway.

“Oh, I am ill!” cried the weirdo.

“So go home.”

“Going home will only make it worse,” The ill girl insisted. As weird as this was, the donut eater was still too engrossed in the taste of the donut’s eggy dough and nearly liquid chocolate frosting to wonder why the girl would say such a thing. It was serious: some of the custard had escaped, and splattered the table. But she didn’t have to wonder, because the

Illness, a parabolic

"I am ill," she said. It was to no one in particular. Good. because as she looked up, no one was anywhere near her. With the wind blowing, even the distant people crossing the surrounding streets had no chance of hearing.
"I am very ill."
So she went in search of anyone willing to hear her account of her illness, the first trustworthy person who could stand to hear what she had to stay.
This was not until she had reached her plain job, unworthy of description, that she found such a victim. I was her co-worker, and not one she knew especially well, but the woman was sitting down in the break room, innocently biting into the cracking glazed flesh of a chocolate colored donut. The donut's end began threatening to drip custard just as the moment was interrupted by the tirade.
"I am so ill."
"So go home." She remained focused on the donut.
"No, I will only grow worse if I go home."
"Eh." It was more of a grunt, muffled by the continued ingestion of the donut.
"It is an illness brought on by thought and at home I do nothing but think. I must do something else with my mind before it is fully given over to illness."
"Uh, yeah."
"Oh, the thought of him makes me so sick, it makes me dizzy. It's like a flow of dizziness that drops out of my ribcage and spreads sharp stars everywhere. It make me unable to stand or think clearly or do anything useful!" She sighed in disgust.
"Oh," the woman said, startled. She set the donut down on it's wax paper, now thoroughly caked with sugar, chocolate and custard. She has almost managed to keep her face clear of the threat from the chocolate to stick to it, and she was making some effort to free her hands from their share of both chocolate and custard.
"I refuse to feel this way!" the account continued. "I refuse to love him. I want this illness to go away! I want to be hale once more!"
"Hale?" The donut was regaining its status of being of greater interest than the conversation, but it remained on the table.