Some people are born without certain limbs, and organs. Others, without things that are not necessarily “physical.” Things one can live without. 

   This is the story of a young man named Thomas Elliott Snow, who was born without a heart.

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   Thomas sat outside the bakery, curling himself into a ball to maintain his body’s warmth. Today was Sunday, and according to the clock-tower in the plaza, it was five minutes before three-o’-clock in the afternoon. The bakery closed at three, and shortly afterward the elderly woman who owned the store would throw away whatever goods she was not able to sell. This is what Thomas was waiting for.

   Huddled into a coat three sizes too big, with two pairs of socks not able to gap the space between his toes, and the boots that were too large for his feet, he prayed silently for the biting cold of the wind to relent. It didn’t, and so he stood up, pacing around to keep warm. As he made his way back to the store-front, after having looped around the building, he was greeted by a young woman. 

   Thomas stopped, and began to stutter out an excuse for his peculiar behavior. “I. . . I promise I was not pl-planning on breaking into the store. I’m sim-simply trying to keep warm.” She smiled. “I know, Grandmother always leaves some of what didn’t sell out back for you.” So she does know, Thomas thought. He began to fidget with his hands, which made the young girl laugh. “No need to be nervous. Here, why don’t you come inside?” Thomas thanked her, and accepted the offer. “Oh, I don’t believe we’ve really introduced ourselves. My name is Aelia May Boseman.” She extended her left hand, to which Thomas grasped lightly with his. “Thomas Elliott Snow, pleased to meet you.” He smiled a genuinely happy smile, and she returned it with one unequivocally the most beautiful smile ever to exist.

   As they walked into Boseman’s Bakery, Thomas shuddered at the sheer warmth of the inside of the building. It kissed his body graciously, turning his skin slightly red. Red. Not the color of the heart that should be in Thomas’ chest, but more of a deep pink. Not exactly red. He did not actually know that he had been living miraculously without a heart. Thomas simply assumed that everyone felt the same way he did. Empty, cold, and without feeling. Aelia had changed this feeling. She had brought a ray of sunshine to his gloomy life, bringing emotions he had not previously been able to feel.

   An odd sensation began to emanate from his chest. Almost like a warm, jittery pulsing feeling. He disregarded the abnormal behavior for the moment, and took in his surroundings. The walls glowed with the color of the hearth’s fire. Thomas had never actually seen a fire, and its beauty captivated him. Aelia caught his attention finally when she introduced him to her grandmother, Henrietta Boseman. “Grandma, this is Thomas. I’m sure you know who he is.” Thomas looked down at his too-large boots, his skin turning that familiar shade of deep pink, but for a different reason. “H-Hello, ma’am. Pleased to meet you.” She held his small, bony hand in both of her weathered ones. “Likewise, dear.”

   They talked, and indulged in tea and baked-goods. Mrs. Boseman eventually asked, “So, Thomas. Tell us, where are you from?” He looked at the fire, wishing for it to engulf him, to take him away from the dreary, cold reality of life. He tried to avoid letting them know too much. “I don’t really know. I’ve just always been in this area.” She asked him if he knew who his parents were, which brought tears in his eyes. Humbled by the new feelings he had developed after meeting Aelia, he answered honestly. “It’s always been just me.” They sat in silence for a moment, until Mrs. Boseman asked him one final question. “Would you like to stay with us?” Thomas met her gaze, pondering the elderly woman’s kindness, and gratefully accepted the invitation.

                                                              ~

   After they had arrived, Aelia asked Thomas if he knew what size he wore. He replied that he did not know what she was talking about. “I had a brother. . .” Now it was her turn to tear up. “. . . and he was about your build.” Thomas took her hands in his, and smiled. “I understand.” She looked up at him, the look of pain, and loss washed from her beautiful face. “Let’s see if you’ll fit them.”

   Thomas had been able to find a few pieces of clothing, shedding his tattered over-sized rags. Aelia tidied up what had been her brother’s room, and told Thomas that he would be able to stay here as long as he liked.

   They both sat on the bed in relative silence, until he asked how she had lost her brother. After seeing the expression of hurt on her face, he apologized. “Don’t be sorry, Tom. I’ll tell you, since you were honest with me about your parents.” And so she did.

   Aelia’s family had all lived in the same house. Her grandmother, her mother, and her brother. Aelia’s father hadn’t been a part of her life, and Thomas didn’t inquire further. Her brother’s name was Domonick, and her mother was Allison. 

   One day, they had both left for a trip from Southampton, to New York. Aelia had been a very young child, and had been left in the care of her grandmother. They had departed on the doomed vessel RMS Titanic. Thomas needed no further explanation; everyone, even those who did not have the same privileges as most, knew what had happened on April 14th, 1912. Like many other families looking for work in the States, Allison Boseman, and her seventeen-year-old son had told their family that they would be back once they had made enough money to support them.

   Thomas embraced Aelia, holding her close. He tried to think of something to say that would console her, but came up with nothing. He felt guilty, because at least he didn’t have to know whether or not his parents were dead. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. All he was able to say was, “I am sorry.” Those three words brought Aelia’s sniffle to a sob, which made Thomas tear up slightly. Life is a rather peculiar gift. It can be given as easily as it can be taken, yet very few understand what it means to be alive. Most simply go about their days chasing fantasies, or living day-by-day in an autonomous blur. Both Thomas, and Aelia understood the hardships of life. They also knew that there was always the possibility of great things happening. Thomas had been barely getting by on scraps from generous people, and from rubbish bins, nearly freezing to death during the hard winters of England. He had been blessed by Aelia, and her grandmother. She had given him a heart. He was someone she could love, and confide in.

   After a few minutes, they made their way to the living room. Sitting on the sofa, Thomas asked her when her birthday was. “September 14th, 1908.” He laughed at the coincidence. “Why, mine is the thirteenth of September. Same year, and all.” She smiled at this. Some things in life can be drawn up as coincidences, others might seem more like a part of Fate’s plan. 

   The fluttery feeling Thomas had felt earlier was back. This time, it was not as pleasant. It felt like a constriction around his heart. His actual heart, not what some people call a “soul.” His arms and legs began to feel numb, a sensation he was accustomed to, given England’s harsh weather. This was different.

   Thomas’ face contorted into an almost angry look. Aelia noticed this. “Thomas, are you alright?” The sound of concern in her voice indicated that she knew he was not. He strained his neck, and looked up at her. Thomas’ face was a deep purple. He struggled to get his words out. “I. . .” he took a pause, “. . . am in love. . .” another brief stop, “. . . with you.” Thomas Snow, the boy without a heart, had fallen in love. “Oh, Thomas. What is wrong?” Aelia began to cry, as she called out for her grandmother. Mrs. Boseman came rushing in, and as she looked at Thomas, an expression of realization spread across her face. “He’s having a heart-attack.” All three of them knew that it was too late for a doctor’s aid, which made Aelia and her grandmother sob even harder. Thomas grasped her hand tightly, looking into her gorgeous blue-green eyes. His grip released, as all the muscles in his face relaxed. His own gray eyes glazed over.

   Thomas had found his soul, his “heart,” after having met Aelia. His world of coldness, and lack of feeling dissipated the moment he met her. The irony of his own heart failing him being another one of Fate’s seemingly sick, and cruel plans. Aelia cried, begging him to wake up, pleading for him to not leave her. Thomas watched this from above, feeling disoriented by the experience of looking down at his own body. He tried to tell her that he was fine, but she could not hear him. Thomas knew that he was dead, and it hurt that he couldn’t comfort Aelia. She cried into his chest, holding him tightly. Her grandmother placed an arm around her shoulder. Within that chest was a heart that had stopped beating. Thomas now resided within the spirit of his feelings.

                                                              ~

    He was always right beside her, never leaving. He knew that it was pointless, given that he could not interact with the material world that had caused him so much suffering. Nonetheless, he stuck by her side. The young woman who had given him his heart would always feel the odd presence of something she couldn’t see, and she decided to believe that it was the spirit of Thomas. His presence brought her a strange sense of comfort, although she was not able to feel the emotions she had before his death any longer. The girl with a heart had given hers to the boy without one. Without him, there was nothing left for her. 

    Idly making her way through the world, she felt she had no particular purpose. She had blended into the background, becoming yet another insignificant cog in the magnificent machine that is life. Just another autonomous husk, once beautiful and full of emotion and joy. Now she was a girl without a heart