I Hugged Her

The rule of not touching is generally easy to follow in our society, sadly enough. But then I saw her, a stranger to me. She stood stark still, oblivious to the world around her. This, in itself was not entirely strange. We were in an art museum after all. Lots of people stand very still for significant periods of time.

But I watched her, finding her solitude amongst teeming masses more fascinating than any of the pretentious and painfully deep works of modern art around us. Clarissa would be angry if I were late to our rendezvous in the cafe, but I could deal with her. I could always deal with her.

Instead of looking at the art around her, this strange woman had a thousand yard stare, looking at everything and nothing. Her face revealed a subtle pain I could not imagine. Her shoulders drooped in defeat. The very air around hung heavy with sadness.

I knew what to do, though I don’t know how. It’s just something I knew and had to do. So I did. I walked up. Ismiled. Then, I hugged her.

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