Bug

Joseph had heard about the old man from the local tavern. "Go to him. He can get rid of your pain."

When he entered the old man's shop, which was stuffed with odd items such as the preserved foetus of an armadillo, bones of a dodo and the preserved body of a narwhal, he knew this would be the place. Joseph found the old man in the back room, mulling over his records. He wore a thick coat, and was quite heavyset. He peered at Joseph from behind horn-rimmed glasses.

"What do you want?" The old man said.

"I hear you have a cure for me," said Joseph.

"I am not a doctor."

"It is not medicine I need. I seek a way to end the pain in my heart," Joseph said.

The old man looked up from his book. "Come with me," he said. "Sit down."

Joseph sat on a heavy mahogany chair, wiping the dust away with his hands. The old man put down his book.

"It was a girl?"

"Yes," said Joseph. Speaking about it bought a stab of pain in his heart. "She chose another."

The old man nodded.

"Can you make it stop? Can you?" Joseph said, his voice pleading. "I have not had a good night's sleep. I have destroyed all my pictures of her yet she is etched into my mind like a brand."

He sighed a long sigh. Then his hands moved to his chest, and he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Look," he said. Upon his chest was a odd looking thing; a mechanical bug. "It has rested here, for thirty, forty years."

"I was like you once. My heart was cursed, destroyed by another woman. But once I had taken the bug from its previous owner, I felt no more pain. No pain, no feeling of any sort. It has helped me become a reasonably successful businessman; empathy is a weakness, as well as love," he said.

"So can I have it?" Joseph said.

"On one condition. Find out what has happened to the woman who made me wear this for decades. Once I know, I will turn it over to you," he said.

Joseph nodded. The woman's name was Mary of Astoria. She would now be almost 60. After many months, Joseph tracked her down. She was now residing in a small town, raising cattle. She had borne four children, and her husband was a physician. She looked happy, and Joseph guessed as much. She mentioned the old man's name, and she did not remember it.

Joseph went back to the old man with what he had discovered. The book keeper nodded. He then opened his shirt, put his hand on the bug, and extracted it. With his hands shaking, he held the bug out for Joseph. Abruptly, the man started to cry, shedding large fat tears.

Joseph took the bug in his hand. It still dripped blood from its metallic teeth. He held it up to the light. The old man was collapsing. The grief was too much; crushing him. The motors in the beetle clicked urgently. Joseph opened his shirt. He was about to bring it closer, when suddenly his palm closed, crushing the beetle. The engines within it whirred in protest as thick grey liquid seeped through his fingers. The old man sighed one last time, and died. Joseph looked around the shop, threw a blanket over him, and left, even as the rotors of the bug turned one last time.