The Long Road

    She placed her hand over his and pressed the pen to the paper. The signature looked shaky but it should be enough. “Easy peezy,” she said. “Now you just need to do it on your own. Maybe a couple thousand times.” She smiled.
    His hand was pink where she had touched him and he stared in disbelief at the pen in his hand. Without her support his fingers felt loose, like they were all skin and tissue. No bones.
    “Yup,” he said. “Easy peezy.” The warmth of her smile buoyed his spirits. He felt like he might actually be able to do this. Weeks ago he had dreamed of signing his name, tying his shoes or flossing his teeth but now he felt it might actually happen.
    “Why don’t you try picking up the pen and doing it yourself?” She offered him a crooked smile that filled his stomach with a buzzing, nagging desire to please. He wanted to make her happy; to make her proud but hesitated, unsure that he could handle the look of disappointment if he failed. On the other hand, maybe she’d offer him a little help. And maybe he’d feel something; the glow of her skin touching his.