Short Story Sunday: St. Patty

    My cell was crowded by Val screaming for the love of his life. His delusion was strong enough that he couldn't quite comprehend that he was in a prison. I wasn't sure that not knowing he was trapped was particularly better than losing the love of his life and thinking she'd never be back.
    "Come back!" Val screamed. His screams pierced my heart and ears like an arrow. I thought him to be lucky. I could have wished for something to drown my sorrows.
    "Val?" I said through the wall as I pressed my fingers through the bars. His hand touched mine, and it was smaller than I expected.
    "I'd kill to see her," Val said. His voice changed dramatically from light star crossed lover to the deep tone of a female hippopotamus. I was starting to get a grip on why he was here. Though his hands were dainty, I could feel the scars that ran along his finger and his jagged fingernails.
     "You could steal her heart," I said back. Stealing a heart would be an interesting score, but I was more into the facet of gold. Although a gold heart would be fine, I guess.
    "I could take her heart and I could keep close to mine."
    "To be in love again," I said aloud. I was never the one for love, usually just the one for lonely drunken nights and lucky scores. I pressed my hand onto a hexahon I had carved into the wall; my lucky charm.
     "What do they call you?" Val asked.
     "Patty. You?"
     "Val. It's short for Valentine." There was a pause and then Val spoke again. "I've never had a best friend."
     "I'll be yours, Val."