Don't touch me

weet, like the fruit that sat a little too long on the shelf. Sarah pushed her cart slowly, letting her fingers brush the edges of th

he move had been an act of desperation, an attempt to outrun the memories that clung to her like a second skin. She told herse

d it. Her breath caught in her throat, her hand freezing mid-air. For a split second, the grocery store va

e said, pulling her

getically. "Didn't mean to bump into you there," the woman added, her voic

tingled where the woman had touched her, a sharp, cold sensation that lingered long after the contact. She f

ling, telling herself it was just an innocent touch, nothing more. But the feeling of dread wouldn't leav

. But every step felt heavy, as if the simple act of moving was draining her energy. The world around her seem

llet, dropping it onto the counter. The cashier, a young man with a kind smi

, her heart pounding in her chest as if it were trying to escape. She could barely manage a polite "than

felt too thick, too suffocating. When she finally reached her front door, she fumbled with the keys, her hands still

touch-two, really-nothing more. But it had felt like a violation, as if someth

But the sense of unease lingered. The house, which had once felt like a refuge, now felt too quie

own. It was nothing, she told herself again. Just a touch, an accidental brush of skin. But deep down, she k

e tried to ignore it, that cold, lingering dread