The boy felt unable to move. Unable to make an expression of any kind. Unable to reason. He knew it was wrong, everything was wrong, he knew he couldn’t touch her, but he couldn’t remember why. He didn’t understand anything that was happening. He wanted to hold her hand... to pull her, to pull her to him. He wanted to hold her face tightly, with both hands, so that he could press it against his. He wanted to touch that dirty skin with his own skin, and...