A stranger touched my waist today by accident. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

It happened in a crowded place — a small brush, a soft hold, barely a second long.
A stranger’s hand slipped against my waist as they tried to pass.
They apologized.
I nodded.
But my body… reacted.

Not in a reckless way.
Not in a fantasy way.
Just… awakened.

It was the kind of touch that reminds you you’re human. That you’ve been starved of gentle contact without realizing it. That sometimes your skin misses affection even when your mind is busy pretending you're fine.

I don’t know why my heart jumped. I don’t know why the warmth stayed on my body long after the stranger disappeared. I don’t know why I kept replaying it — the closeness, the unexpected intimacy, the quiet jolt of electricity that shouldn’t have meant anything.

Maybe it’s loneliness.
Maybe it’s the lack of tenderness in my life lately.
Maybe it’s the fact that touch, even accidental, can wake emotions you didn’t know were sleeping.

It’s silly.
It’s meaningless.
But I still remember the exact spot their fingers grazed…
and how alive it made me feel.

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