They say your heart beats 60-100 times a minute. I time mine, and it is tidy, just like the rest of me. One beat a second, minute after minute, like a personal clock. I lie on my bed, staring at the glow-in-the dark stars that don't glow anymore, counting to 60 over and over.
I try to work out how many times my heart would beat over my life time. 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day (I think they could have made it 25, if they tried), 365 days in a year. My heart could beat 31,536,000 times a year.
I start to think about how many years I will live, but then I start thinking about dying at 73 rather than 75 and how untidy that would be. Mum doesn't understand why 73 is a bad age to die. She will probably die at an untidy age, because she is an untidy person in general.
I close my eyes, so that I'm looking at black, black is tidy, and start counting again. One, two, three, four, five...