Cold HandsHe was holding my hand.Cold Hands2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I could still remember the first time he had done so. That time, I could tell by his trembling fingers that he was nervous. I could tell by his cold, clammy hands -- that he was nervous, and perhaps afraid.
But not anymore.
I could not tell anymore.
As he was holding on to my hand, this minute, this second, I could no longer sense what he was feeling. His hands no longer shook, and was no longer wrapped in a welcoming layer of warm sweat. Or rather, this was not even holding hands at all, unless placing his palm against mine counts.
"Okay, what?" I gave in with a teary voice.
He and I both knew for some reason, t
Perfect StrangersWe met in the bathroom or so I thought.Perfect Strangers2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The moment I saw him in the girls' bathroom, I could tell he had guilt imprinted in every pore of his beautifully textured face.
However, he had not expected me to walk past him without asking why he was there. Instead, I went along doing what I first went to the bathroom to do.
After giving my bladder a break coming out of the stall, he was gone.
I strolled comfortably to the sink. I was about to open the faucet when a faint chemical smell shot up my nostrils.
When I woke up, I was wearing nothing but my baby blue bra and matching panties. My appendages were tied together; hands around my b