The Tinker

With everything step she took a strange rattling sound emanated from her chest. By now however, she had gotten so used to the clanking that it no longer bothered her. Unfortunately, it did not escape the notice of her constant companion who was highly bothered by the sound.

“What is that awful racket? Are you carrying metal tools or something in your blouse?” he asked, indignantly.

She replied rather nonchalantly, “Why, I’m not quite sure. I guess I've never really paid it much mind as it didn't seem to inflict much harm.”

“Well I fancy myself a tinker of sorts. Would you mind if I took a look to see what is going on with you?”

She contemplated the offer before curiosity won her over and she agreed. With his tools in hand he laid her down on the table and began to open up the framework of her form. Her clockwork was quite priceless. Exquisite detailed etched across her face and body. She was indeed a work of art.

Suddenly, he exclaimed, “Oh dear! I know what the problem is. My darling, you have a broken heart."

Sadness dulled all her senses and rather mutely she replied, “Not much we can do about it. Just close me up and I’ll be on my way.”

Seeing the sadness so deeply etched in her face he couldn't help but feel his own heart ache for her. In that moment he made a decision. He would live up to his title of tinker and attempt to fix the broken heart that seemed to block out all other sounds from entering his precious one’s life. He would help her through her pain, fix her heart and fill her life with the sounds of life and not loss.

After all: he will either be really good at it and fix her right up, or else he will be unable to do much and she will remain as when he found her.

On hearing his offer she was flabbergasted. Would someone really offer to mend her? She was broken for so long that she forgot what it meant to be whole. She had been living with the constant reminder of her pain that she no longer knew what I was to just smile, to live, to laugh and above all she forgot what it meant to have a companion with whom to move forward with. All it took was a broken heart. If it hadn't broken in the first place she would never have found what she did in her tinker.

So the process began. Painstakingly slow. He carefully took her apart one quadrant at a time. He evaluated everything with such detail that soon he knew her better than she knew herself. It became his personal mission of sorts. He would find what was bent, dented or dusty and fix it right up. He would leave everything he touched clean and shining until one morning she woke up to find herself a new person of sorts.

He had worked so long and so hard on fixing the muddled cogs that made her function, that her world now took on a new dimension. She found herself not only living for herself but for the tinker as well.

He took what was broken and made it whole. He gave her life. He gave her reason.