Greed was sickening, causing a large portion of the population to grow ill…and completely heartless.

“No, honestly, I think the procedure is the best thing to happen to me,” a young girl said, nearing the age of 22. “I mean, look, I’ll never get wrinkles!” She pointed to her forehead.

The interviewer looked at her with a slight expression of disgust. “But you’re only 21. Why risk being heartless for a little less aging?” The interviewer asked.

“Who cares if I’m heartless! I’m pretty!”

I shut the television off and put my head in my hands.

This world was turning cruel.

Finding I had no food, I ran to the grocery store, only to be pulled into a wave of more bitterness.

Many women had bandages around their faces, proof of their procedures. Some men had bandages as well.

I tried to stay clear of them.

Grabbing eggs, a man behind me laughed. I turned to find an ageless man, looking roughly 23, laughing at me. I could see small scars from the procedure speckled on his face.

“My my, and how old are you? You look like you’re pushing 40!” The man laughed in my face, causing a crowd to surround us.

I saw red.

“Do you know how incredibly rude that is? Didn’t your mother raise you to never ask a woman her age?” I spat.

“Who cares!” He chuckled.

“I’m sure your mother does. How disappointed she must be in you, selling pieces of you heart for a rotting procedure that does nothing to save you!” I yelled back.

It was true, my words.

The procedure to anti-aging made one beautiful and ageless, but for a risky price, it took a piece of your heart.

“How dare you!” The man cried, clearly cut by my words.

“At least you still have a little heart.” I turned with my eggs and left.

I’d rather be aged than heartless.