ACCOUNTANCY

Accountancy

I've saved lives, it's true.  I have carried the drugs that slow the heart, which beats so close to where I rest at the end of my chain.  For a long time I belonged to a fat clean man who had his rituals, like most humans do.

I was born in his hand when he first put the blue pills in and attached me to his long gold chain that reached down to his plump belly.

I started my day fifteen minutes after the bell rang from the clock next to the bed.  I don't know what happened in the room he went in for that time but he brought a fresh smell back with him, then he would come and get me, open me, put in a pill with his right thumb, and snap me shut.

Then he would hang the chain around his neck and there I would stay, under a vest, and a shirt, then he would go down to eat and I could hear each mouthful slowly making it's way down, pushed along by big gulps of tea.  Then he would put on his waistcoat, blazer and in winter an overcoat.

His heart began to beat faster as soon as he left the house, sweat trickled and rerouted itself around me, by the time we were on the bus his rhythm would be out and if the traffic stopped he would check his watch then me.  If we were still for more than five minutes his heart beat frantically and the little, checking tap, would increase.

I was almost never still in the mornings; he never strolled, always rushed, almost running, but not quite.

Occasionally when his breath was too short we would stop and he would hold me tightly through his clothes and I think I calmed him.

Then we would reach his office and most times his heart rate would slow to normal.

Except in spring.

Every spring his time in the office would lengthen, his heart rate quicken, he would sweat profusely, mumble grotesque profanities and touch me so much more.