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Do Not Touch

Do Not Touch

6 hrs. 39 min.
Tatchka rides behind my back, presses against me with a thin body, wraps me with her legs. And I start to burn—wildly. Improperly. Until red spots appear before my eyes.

And the mantras that used to save me don’t help anymore.

They no longer save.

They haven’t saved for a year.

Since that past, damned summer, when I kissed her after graduation.

Me, Sergey Boytsov—widely known in narrow circles as the Fighter, a former boxer, a fairly successful businessman, a normal, calm, solid man—thirty-five years old.

I kissed an eighteen-year-old girl who had just finished school. My sister.

My stepsister.

Whom you can’t touch.
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