Five Feet Apart

by Rachael Lippincott

“I want to draw you,” I say before I can stop myself. “What?” she says, shaking her head adamantly. “No.” “Why not?” I ask. “You’re beautiful.”

“I know you, Stella. Organizing a med cart is like foreplay.”

He nods and stretches his arm out, holding up a gloved pinky across the distance. I take it and we pinky promise. The smallest contact, but the first time we’ve ever touched.

The only thing worse than not being able to be with her or be around her would be living in a world that she didn’t exist in at all.

I’m tired of living without really living. I’m tired of wanting things. We can’t have a lot of things. But we could have this.

“God, you’re beautiful. And brave,” I say. “It’s a crime I can’t touch you.”

“Will’s Master List” written on it. And below, a single item. “#1: Love Stella Forever.”

“We need that touch from the one we love, almost as much as we need air to breathe. I never understood the importance of touch, his touch . . . until I couldn’t have it.”