By Mel Fawcett

I’ve always been a tactile person –  you should have asked my wife. She used to call me a fiddler, especially in bed. She wasn’t complaining; in fact she usually laughed and told me how pleasant it was. For my part, I couldn’t get enough of her soft curves and amazing silky skin.  

When she became too ill for making love, she said my touching eased the pain. And when she had to go into hospital I stroked the indentions that she had left in our bed. And now that she has gone forever, I find myself trying to stroke the space that she once inhabited.

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Mel Fawcett lives in London. His stories have appeared in various print and online magazines, including Brilliant Flash Fiction, Scribes Micro, The Nonconformist Magazine, The Pomegranate London, The Drabble, and Microfiction Monday Magazine.