Her soft hands brush nonexistent crumbs off her blouse, straighten nonexistent wrinkles, fix nonexistent problems.
They tuck her hair behind her ears, scoop her books off the table, and push open the library door.
These hands want to fix everything, solve every conflict; her best friend is going through problems with his girlfriend. Her little brother is failing math. People all over the world are going without food.
She knows, somewhere in her crowded mind, that her hands cannot be the sole fixer of problems, and yet she still feels responsible. But her hands do not waver. They do not shake, nor do they fidget. They are calm and steady.
They are ready to save the world.
YOU ARE READING
Hands on Hearts
Short StoryIf eyes are windows to the soul, hands are doors to the heart.
