I’m ready to fight, but then he presses his lips against my ear and whispers something that surprises me, that makes me question my sanity. “If you don’t want to talk, then at least let me dance with you. Help me to feel again, Pen.” There’s a desperation to his request. A heavy sadness, a longing. Am I imagining this? “What?” I whisper out, confused, taken aback. That’s not what I thought this was. “I need to feel like you do.” “No.” “It’s been too long,” he whispers into my ear. “I want to know I’m still capable.” “It hurts,” I admit,
