She nodded and held out her hand. The skin on her fingers was stained with paint, and her fingernails were bitten down and ragged. “You’re shivering,” she said. “And hyperventilating. Do you mind if I touch you?” He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from flinching when she laid her hand on his chest. Under the soft pressure of her palm, he could feel his heart, like a bird, a trapped thing, battering itself against glass. She left her hand there, a small, warm weight, until the wild fluttering slowed and the shivering stopped and he started breathing normally, and then she gave his
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