"Maybe you've had skin next to your skin, but when was the last time you let yourself be touched?"
― Tom Spanbauer, In the City of Shy Hunters

The power of touch. There were several speakers, and it was such an eye-opening experience to get some first-hand information from a man about the importance of touching. The presentation helped to know that I wasn't alone in my hunger for touch.

Sometimes the craving could drive a person insane if there wasn't an outlet. Skin hunger. It was real.

A suggestion was to get a pet and that was out of the question. Not with Carl in the home. A pet would have to be his idea and something he wants, anything else would be too much for my brain to process why he thought it was a good idea to do x,y, and z to a bunny.

Michonne was the first person that I had ever disclosed this information too. We had created such a different type of friendship.

"What's the longest for you?"

"A year. You?"

"Six months." She revealed how long it was since her husband just gave her a simple reassuring touch.

"Sometimes it is all I want. I'm not looking for anything sexual, you know. I just want a hand to hold or sometimes a nice squeeze."

"You don't ask for much." She smiled and I couldn't help but to smile back.

"I don't. Sometimes I hug someone that needs it, but there isn't anyone around that I can whisper, squeeze me back together."

She reached for my hand from across the small table that separated us inside Mabel's diner where we shared a coffee and stories about our son's never changing limitation when it came to boundaries, socialization, and coping skills. My hand in hers. She turned my palm up right and she did soft circles until the sensation was too much and we couldn't contain our laughter when I did it back to her.

I will admit, that I didn't want that night, our first outing together to end. I enjoyed learning with her at the seminar and the few hours we shared over the last pastry. When it was over, I walked into her embrace and got a nice squeeze. It was the second one for us since we had to do it at the Seminar. This time was less awkward. I felt strangely whole.

I watched her that night. I watched her silhouette move throughout her home before the final light was shut off to what I would assume was her bedroom. The way the moon was shone, for a moment I thought I glimpsed her staring out of her window towards where I stood. I stepped back, further into the darkness of my room. I could tell she had closed her curtains.

A/N:

I do have stories that don't consist of Infidelity. (Had to get that out of the way)

I realized this is a rare depiction of infidelity from how I would normally write. Normally, I write it from the angle that Rick is married and Michonne is the other woman or they are both Married. I think the only story I have where Michonne is married and Rick isn't is Temporary View. I have to review my story catalogue to verify this as a fact. I know one reviewer had brought this to my attention months and months ago...hmmm.