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Story Notes:
I'm new to not only writing W/R fanfiction or fanfiction, in general, but to writing stories altogether.
I love reading so much, I just thought I'd give writing a go. It may be slow-going and nothing too spectacular may come for a while, but I'm sure love will make a way and I'll have a stellar story someday.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This story will be the first story I have ever written. That says something pretty sad about the status of American education in terms of fostering the exploration of different forms of creativity. Boo. Boo on them and boo on me for living more than two decades without writing any fiction.
Sure, she hadn’t a single dollar left to her name, but she’d take her chances getting off in the middle of nowhere at this bawdy dive rather than trek on any further through the frozen Canadian country-side with the leering bozo she’d hitched a ride with a few hours and a hundred suppressed sighs ago. His hands never wandered but she could feel the right one itching to do so. Five months of watching and avoiding touch had sharpened her sense of it. She could sense the motives and emotions attached to the touches she witnessed and received more than she had ever thought possible. Strangely enough, it seemed the more insight she had into those she came into contact with, the less common she felt. Wandering aimlessly allowed for something usually excluded from contemporary day-to-day prioritization: true comprehension of the people around her. Sure, she’d have to touch them all to know if what she sensed was true truly was, but it seemed more likely than not that she was right. She wasn’t sure if she was developing a new awareness or unleashing a stifled intuition, but she knew one thing: she was alone, she was a good person, and with a good head like hers on her shoulders, she wasn't going to get mixed up in anything too crazy.
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