In this world, people are measured by their hearts.

No.

Not like in a video game.

They don't have minor heart indicators above their head all the time, even if that would be super helpful.

Everyone is born halfhearted.

People have all different shapes and sizes of hearts.

Some hearts are tiny, some hearts are big, some hearts are twisted to the core, dark and gnarled, but every heart has a matching partner somewhere in the world.

That means that there is another heart out there somewhere that will fit perfectly with yours.

It's such a romantic idea, isn't it?

To find that perfect someone, and it fits just right, and everything works out?

Everyone goes through life looking for the perfect match. Once they find it, that is it. Perfection and happy life. Right?

What happens if that perfect match dies? Or decide they were wrong? That the hearts didn’t fit just so?

Don't worry. There can be more than one person who fits with you.

Sounds great, right?

There’s a problem. Hearts are kind of fickle.

They don't communicate with the brain very well.

So sometimes, people fall for someone that isn't right for them. They put in the efforts, do the dance, and believe they have the perfect fit but there wrong.

But still, because of the culture, they force their hearts to line up.

Because of this, bad things can happen.

Like ending up with a broken heart.

Or even worse, being heartless.

By now, the service was over, and now the parting had begun. Everyone had moved deeper into the heart of the church. Literally. The wedding reception was to be held in the left ventricle of the heart-shaped church. The service had been held in the pulmonary artery.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

It had been decorated just as lavishly, thankfully not by Satin but by Streamer. The little ancient woman who owned the Balloon shaped party store in town. Satin had always been amused that the shop was able to keep afloat and Stream only brought it down to let customers in and during thunderstorms.

Satin wondered if Streamer, too, had met with Ribbon’s wrath.

From the looks of how perfect everything seemed, she was sure Streamer had. The ceiling had been filled entirely with golden and white balloons littered with glitter and fake gems to catch the light. Streamers cuddled along the underside of each table, delicately brushing people’s legs as they sat down in the chairs. Satin smiled weakly. Some of the people were given a fright, most likely thinking it was a spider or cockroach. No, just a decoration.

Satin slumped against the wall, her centaur body pressing against the length of the wood door frame. As people filled in, she got many compliments about the dressing and designs of the wedding. It all felt so empty to her. She had made more than enough money on this job.

“It was just lovely!”

“The dresses! I will have to hire you once my April gets married, finally!”

“However, did you get the lace so perfect?”

Satin muttered polite answers at the flutter of questions she received. She felt a small swell of pride for a moment, but as she watched Tea and Ribbon dancing, all the hard work felt worthless. The lights hit them just right; each movement was long and slow as they waltzed in the center of the room.

"I don't think they're so perfect for each other," Chanty said, stepping up beside Satin.

Someone she hadn’t seen in years, but the two had kept in touch by mail.

Chanty was what Satin felt the best definition of a wanderer was: to travel without a definite purpose or objective; roam, rove, or stray.

It was something Satin somewhat envied about her old friend.

Chanty could go anywhere in her balloon-powered pirate ship. The kirin had designed it herself at the young age of twenty, left, and never looked back at the shabby town.

Satin didn’t blame her. Chanty wasn’t born in the city. She moved in with her father when she was only ten.

Satin looked at her tall Kirin horn, decorated for the festivities. All manner of gold bangles hung down to Chanty’s pale green hair. They caught the light more than the fake gems in the balloon-filled ceiling.

"Of course you'd say that. You just want me to feel better." Satin smiled weakly, still struggling to keep tears out of her eyes.

"No, I'm saying that because it's true." Chanty huffed.

Satin rolled her eyes as the song came to an end.

"You're a pirate; what do you know about love?" She teased her friend.

"Everything," Chanty sighed, touching her palm to a long scar on her chest where her heart would have been.

Satin grew quiet.

"I'm sorry. That was a horrible joke. I- I am not in a good place right now." She whispered.

"No, you're not. You can walk home by yourself tonight." Chanty huffed and pulled away. Satin’s heart sank even more as she saw Chanty move to the dance floor with one heavily dragging mechanical leg.

Chanty had built her leg two after the loss of her regular leg. She said it didn’t bother her, but she continually limped like she was in pain.

Satin stood alone the rest of the night. She did her best to smile. She was beaming as brightly as she could for her best friend.

The one who held her half heart, with all Satin’s emotions on a string, and Tea hadn’t the slightest idea about it.

Maybe it was for the best?

No.

It was pointless.