𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖁𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖊
"What futility."
The sterile air brought no distractions, only reinforced the futility of any feeling.
This immensity was more than a space, it was a concept in itself. An impeccable geometry that allowed no deviations or imperfections, a place where even time seemed measured, controlled, compressed into a flawless routine.
After completing my daily obligations, I allowed myself a moment to rest in silence against one of the smooth walls, mentally reviewing the patterns that had been imposed on me that day.
But my little moment of reflection didn't last long. The sound of footsteps interrupted my train of thought.
I looked up out of courtesy and the light footsteps that echoed through the room got closer and closer to me. It didn't take long for me to know who the girl approaching was.
"Yuki."
At my recognition, her eyes widened as she walked closer and closer to me. In one swift movement, she sat down next to me and pointed to a page in the book she was apparently reading.
"You have to read this book, Kiyotaka!"
Her request wasn't unusual, in a way. She was the kind of person who was always looking for something to talk about with me. Although I tried to understand her reasons, I couldn't see how it would be beneficial.
But her sudden interest in the book was certainly intriguing. I shifted my gaze to where she was pointing in particular.
'They say that in touch there is life, that in the warmth of another body lies a bond that transcends words.'
"Human warmth is fascinating. Isn't it, Kiyotaka? One of our five senses, touch, is often extolled as the essence of our existence. The simple act of touching, the press of palms against palms, the intertwining of fingers... it's amazing how profound it can be."
An excerpt about bond, huh...
"Human warmth... do you mean it in a physical way like the transfer of thermal energy from one body to another? Or a mere projection of our meaning-hungry intellect?"
She laughed, a light and unexpected sound for me.
"It's not that!"
She corrected, shaking her head with a smile.
"I mean, the warmth of people. That feeling you get when someone is close to you, or when they hug you."
What was so special about something so banal? Physical contact, touching, was irrelevant unless it served a purpose.
As I analyze the issue, I find myself perplexed by the fragility of the argument.
Touch, after all, is nothing more than electrical stimuli transmitted by receptors in the skin to the brain. The perception of 'warmth' is nothing more than the transfer of thermal energy, a process as mechanical as the operation of a steam engine.
Two bodies in contact exchange warmth, yes, but what else?
Where, exactly, lies the depth that so many poetically attribute to this process?
"This is just sensory stimulation. It has no intrinsic meaning." I answered with conviction.
It wasn't hard to see this.
YOU ARE READING
COTE: The Best Version of Me
FanfictionAyanokoji Kiyotaka sees his small world inexplicably crumble as flames spread throughout the White Room. The flames crackled fiercely against the imposing white walls that had surrounded him since his birth. Ironically, the flames that engulfed ever...
