It was nothing more than an accident—at least, that was how it began. His hand shifted across the table, reaching for his glass, and in the small crossing of distance, his fingers brushed against hers.
She should have pulled away immediately. That would have been the polite thing, the safe thing. But she didn’t. Her fingers froze in place, and instead of retreating, she let the touch remain, light and trembling.
It wasn’t much, not really. Just the whisper of skin against skin, the faintest contact between the warmth of his hand and the coolness of hers. But in that moment, it was everything. She felt her pulse leap in her wrist, racing in a way that made her acutely aware of every inch of her body. She was an old woman, yes, but the sensation was timeless—it awakened something in her that had lain dormant for years.
He didn’t move, either. His hand stayed exactly where it was, as though afraid that even the smallest shift might break the fragile, electrified silence between them. His fingers pressed just slightly, an unspoken question. And her stillness became an answer.
She kept her eyes on the table, pretending to study the grain of the wood, but her mind was far from calm. Her skin burned where he touched her, the warmth seeping upward, spreading like a secret fire. She wanted to pull away, to laugh it off, to dismiss it as nothing. But deeper than that, she wanted to hold on. She wanted him to feel it too—that even now, she could respond, she could want.
Her breath grew shallower, each inhale tugging at the edge of composure. She could feel the weight of his gaze, though she dared not meet it. The silence stretched, thicker now, wrapping around them both.
At last, when she finally shifted, it wasn’t a full retreat. She pulled her hand back slowly, reluctantly, letting the touch linger until the very last second. The absence felt sharp, almost painful, like stepping away from warmth into sudden cold.
She folded her hands in her lap, trying to steady them, but her heart still raced. And though no words were exchanged, something had passed between them—something undeniable. That fleeting touch on the table had said more than conversation ever could.