"I'm sick.", She whispered.
The whispers continued..
"Sick of...
Smiling for pictures,
Talking when I don't want to,
And, listening when I cannot tolerate to."
"Do you know what I want?" She looked at me and asked. I was puzzled.
"A touch. A soothing touch, but not a forcing one. A place where I can wrap up myself and stay at peace for a while."
Her words hit my heart.
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