Anaphia

Broken bones no longer hurt. The elderly no longer perceive their aching muscles. Scrapes and scratches leave traces in appearance but not in feeling. Men and women drag their hands across fabrics, no longer feeling coarse or soft textures. Strong winds slam into walking bodies, the force pushing people to the ground but they don't feel it. Cold or warm air makes no difference as it brushes over people's skin. Some rub their arms and look around uselessly, jaws agape at the loss of touch. Others slam curled fists on tables and walls but sense nothing but open space. Bones snap, puncturing skin but nobody can feel it so they don't stop. Some stare, turning their hands under the lights as if they might find an answer written on their palms. Searching for an explanation in the lines like fortune tellers. For the first time since phones could carry apps, people look at each other. They grab and shake each other or clutch each other in rough embraces. Children can no longer create heat from the friction of their hands on frosty playgrounds. The blind feel like they're falling. No sight or touch, just sound to guide them. Some are not as lucky. Some are on the ground, lying there after a fall. Others flail their arms about in an attempt to hit something but not knowing. They don't know if someone pulls them off the ground or out of the road. Some cry, some laugh, no one understands where their sense of touch has gone. Most just feel distant and lost. Suddenly nothing is really there because it cannot be felt. Even when holding something, there is only the sensation of open space. Everything seems to leak out of a hole that wasn't there before, torn open by the absence of touch. The distance causes people's chests to cave in, to collapse. Humans wilt like dying flowers.