February 13 Donor influenced by guru centre

I sign my heart away with joy. That this untrustworthy organ is prized above all else is the real perversion of our time, this deceitful malignant sore in my chest has drowned out reason when I'd needed to listen. I am a good man but I am a weak man, now I can look forwards, ready to be free.

The man who found this note wasn't sure what to do with it; there was nothing else of note there, just a chalk drawing of Godzilla walking from the waves towards a tiny city. He folded the piece of paper up and made a tiny aeroplane from it, this he placed between the city and the monster, the last line of defence.

The man who wrote the note watched from behind the swings, not sure what to make of this development. He waited a while longer until the figure had left; his footsteps had obliterated the temple in the city he'd drawn. That is a relief, time to go home.