I always wanted to save people.

Save them in ways they could never imagine.

Flying from rooftop to rooftop, punching and thrashing at a villian.

Pushing a syringe into my elderly patient had to do.

He was nice enough, always using manners and making me smile. He was a bright spot in my day, the patient I looked forward to see.

But I was never prepared for the days I would dread visiting him.

Walking in the room almost felt like a task. I could hardly look directly at his pale face and dull eyes.

If only I knew what happened to his pink cheeks and pretty smile.

I always greeted him with a joke, the way he used to greet me. Sometimes his eyes would light up, but that was only on good days.

On bad days, I couldn’t get a peep.

And on the last day, the day his heart was started declining.

He smiled.

His dimples showing.

He tilited his head and pointed at me with the last of his strength.

“Not all is lost with the heartbeat.”