Human Touch

a sample from

Human Touch

a story in real time

Mitch Albom

 

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“The spirit of man can endure only so much. And when it is broken, only a miracle can mend it.”

—John Burroughs,
American essayist

 

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Prologue

Sometime in the future…

 

A little boy taps on a small basement window. 

“It’s open,” an old woman says.

She sits up on the mattress. An electric teapot is plugged in nearby, and a plate of half-eaten oatmeal rests on a tray. 

The little boy pushes his way through the window – only someone as small as he is could fit – and drops to the floor, his sneakers making a thwock on the basement concrete.

“Are you sure this is OK, Little Moses?” the old woman asks. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“No one saw me, Miss.”

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

The boy stomps his sneaker to lose some dirt. 

“I cannot get sick, Miss.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Miss. Don’t worry, Miss.”

A single tear falls down her cheek. She lifts her arms and the boy approaches. He pushes off his shoes as she makes room for him in the bed. Beneath her loose grey hair, which reaches her shoulders, he sees a small locket around her neck. He lays his head against her chest, wondering what is inside the locket.

“Thank you, Little Moses,” she whispers. “Thank you for letting me hold you.”

She coughs several times. The boy feels the old woman’s arms tighten around him, savoring the comfort of a simple human touch.

“You are welcome, Miss,” he whispers.