Miles was obsessed with gadgets. He had been ever since childhood, when his father, an inventor, had given him a new contraption he’d made, to play with. He’d promptly pulled it apart to find out how it worked and then put it back together. He was hooked and he knew exactly what he was going to do with his life: he was going to make things to make people’s lives more comfortable and therefore, more enjoyable.
He now managed his own online business and sales profits had gone through the roof. When his daughter had come to him to ask if he could invent something new that she needed, he was happy to help. He had no doubt in his abilities. He’d never had any doubt… until now.
How could you fix a broken heart? How could you tell your 12 year old daughter that nothing man-made was able to sooth that ache she felt in her chest? Should he lie or tell her the truth? Was she old enough to handle that? He didn’t think so.
He knew that unlike one of his inventions, he couldn’t literally pull her heart apart and put it back together. She needed to do that in her own time, in her own way. That’s just how love was.
More to the point, who was he to give advice when his own heart was still in pieces? The death of his wife and his daughter’s mother was just too much to think about, even now.
Sometimes he felt that life was an invention; a set of circumstances you tried to fit together in the best way possible to make something of it. Sometimes he wished that life was that simple.
But it wasn’t.