Contelysia

"Hold my hand," I say, looking straight into her deep, hazel eyes. "What?" she asks me, chuckling and averting her gaze. "I need to know you are real." She grasps my hand firmly, entwining our fingers. The warmth of her hand comforts my cold, sweaty hand. "See?" she nods her head at me, her eyes trained at our conjoined hands. "I am real: you found a friend." Tears well in my eyes as I look downwards to my lap, my grip on her hand tightening. "Why...?" I trail off, a limpid drop falling on my blue jeans, darkening the fabric there. My teeth suck and bite on my lower lip, my brain swirling and swirling into the darkness of being alone. A sudden squeeze on my hand brings me back from my thoughts. "'Why', what?" she asks me, her tone gentle, unlike anything I ever experienced. So...insightful, making it seem like she knew every nook of my person, every emotion I feel, every thought that scuttles into my brain. &