I hold in my hand, a human heart. A mortal heart. A dead heart.
Yet, for the briefest of instances, I felt it beat. That expansion of life. The thump, that is music to my ears. He put up quite a fight. his will was strong. I had to exert more than a mere thought of will upon his mind. I had to concentrate as never before. He was a new experience for me. It vexed me.
He laughed at me in the end. Even as his own life's blood, filled my mouth and flowed down my throat. Even as his heart slowed, he laughed. He did not laugh when he saw his own heart in front of his cold dead eyes.
I will keep this heart to remind myself of my struggle with a strong will. So as not to become to sure of myself and my prowess. But, I did win.
A paper weight. Or I could rest my quill within it, like a pin cushion. It looks rather nice upon my desk.