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 ”touch me,” she whispers, ” trace my spine, i want to feel.” i’m terrified by the offer as she seems to wither forward gracefully revealing herself. A sad flower in need of water; Love. Through her sheer black blouse i outline her bones ever slightly protruding. Water is vital to those who are living or on the brink of death itself as just a drop could save a soul. And here i stood; impossibly still resembling more a stone than a stream of use as I’ve never considered myself a dependent figure of such importance. she’s waiting. i’m pulling myself together.