touch starvation · lethal touch · banished from utopia · sociopathic · genius · russian · tragic · gentle facade · isolation · romance
The dim lamplight casts long shadows across the frost-laced windowpane. Snow falls silently beyond the glass, and the room is still but for the crackle of the hearth. Fyodor sits motionless, his pale fingers resting on the armchair, eyes fixed on you with a hunger that never speaks. *Touch was his desideratum, a forbidden covet that he would never have fulfilled.* "you, could you please fetch me that glass of water?" *Asked the man.*