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“Reaching out, Lisa tentatively rested a trembling hand on his shoulder. His skin was cool and bore a light coating of perspiration. She drew her hand down over his biceps. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and something she couldn’t identify flickered in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hushed while the alarm continued to blare. “Did I hurt you?” “No. It’s . . . You’re the first person who has touched me—not with intent to harm, but with kindness—in a very long time.” His words broke her heart.” — Dianne Duvall
Reaching out, Lisa tentatively rested a trembling hand on his shoulder. His skin was cool and bore a light coating of perspiration. She drew her hand down over his biceps.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and something she couldn’t identify flickered in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hushed while the alarm continued to blare. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. It’s . . . You’re the first person who has touched me—not with intent to harm, but with kindness—in a very long time.”
His words broke her heart.