(Jessica's Point of View)
He left the gallery first, and I followed him. His shoulders were straight, his gait calm. I could still feel the light warmth of his hand where he had touched my forearm. It was just a brush, but it resonated within me. No one touched me like that, with that precise intention that was neither possession nor roughness.
We walked side by side in a secondary corridor, more silent. The sounds of mourning and politeness seemed to belong to another world. Here, there was only the rustling of my dress and the muffled sound of our steps on the carpet.
He told me that I mattered.
The words spun in my head, too beautiful to be fully believed, yet so sweet to hear. I knew the danger of fine words. My entire life had been a tragedy of them. But Kaiser... Kaiser was different. He didn't smile too much. He didn't promise too much. He said things with a simplicity that made them sound true.
