Something isn’t right.
I didn’t know what it was, so I kept running—through forest after forest, with changing scenery, changing leaves. Abruptly, Maddy stopped running. I stopped running, too. I walked toward her, weightless and light on my toes. Her brown hair was straight and neat, not a strand out of place. Her clothes were dirty and torn, but there was grace to Maddy’s stance, the tilt of her head.
I reached out to touch her shoulder, and my hand passed right through.
“It’s my fault,” Maddy said, without turning around. “Everywhere I go, it never stops.” She turned her head to the side, until I could see her profile in the shadows. “You shouldn’t touch me.”
I couldn’t touch her. Whether that was the work of her subconscious or mine, I wasn’t sure.
“Everything I touch dies,” Maddy
