What do you do when your fingers have gone numb? It makes no sense to have to feel with cheeks and tongue, elbows and toes. It makes no sense to pick a pot up from the stove as if heat had never touched it. It's a long day when you have to flutter your eyelashes at something to sense it, create a breeze that bounces back to you like a bat-screech. What if you close your eyes and reach out? You might as well be in a void. Even if you reach out and touch someone, nothing will happen. There will be no warm, smooth skin, no caressing of wrist and neck. Unless you are willing to reach out with your lips, open, ready to run into someone and knock yourself over, you must wait. You must wait until someone reaches out and touches you, and the waiting is hard. Waiting can make you bitter. Waiting can make you lost. Waiting can make you open your eyes and break into laughing shards the experiment in trust.