She doesn’t.There’s a sensation akin to a small electrical charge that travels between her skin and my nerve endings, and for that fleeting second...of physical contact, it’s almost as though we are one with each other. But in another two steps, the moment is over, lost, never to exist again. I sense a void in a part of me, and mourn it’s passage.“Gorgeous evening, isn’t it?” she inquires. Is she trying as desperately as I feel to prolong that second of intimacy? It might be pure speculation on. This was not entirely her choice, but she had yet to meet that one that she truly felt comfortable with. As she left the subway station, lost in a happy fog of vindication and liquor, she felt an arm drape across her shoulders. Coming back to the present with a start, she looked to the source of the arm, and saw a young man, not more than eighteen or nineteen years old, staring back at her hungrily. ‘Don’t say a word, bitch. If even a single peep comes out of your mouth, you’ll be dead before. More

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