Heartstring

She opened up her chest and pulled out an arrow. The arrow's fletching was red, and the shaft was white as bone. She threaded it and sent it flying to strike its mark. There was a soft thumping sound as it drove home, the barbed tip sinking deep into flesh and fixing there. Her whale was harpooned.

He walked on, never noticing.

The thread of her heart rippled out behind him and dragged in the street. She grew paler as it left her.

All through the city, the lines criss-crossed and tangled, thrumming taut and white like a spider's web.