The satchel I carry is full and pulsing. The contents ooze through the
burlap making it sticky to touch. I set it carefully in the trunk of the
car beside several other bags as full as this one. They all glow a pale
red. I take an empty satchel from the back seat.
The first house I come to has boards over the windows. But I can hear
people moving about inside. My companion, her sack is as empty as mine,
comes around the corner shaking her head.
“There are no hearts to steal here. They have all been stolen.”
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