A car speeds down the highway; an aching heart beats on despite constant complaints. The car veers left on a straight road, tires spinning on gravel; the heart housed in, surrounded by disease. Slow, plodding, it beats a little slower with every passing day. Momentum carries the car, spinning then rolling, bits and pieces flying in all directions; the heart grows weaker still, others keep coming because a dying heart shouldn't beat alone. The car takes one final flip, settling upside down, glass broken, seatbelts still in place, dents, scratches, scrapes and newfound bruises; the heart is slower still, pained peace settling until, veins showing, baggy eyes, wrinkled hands, it stops. The car, leaving black marks on straight highway; the heart leaving a slightly different imprint. It all stops,