The Touch of Love

Prolouge

August 1, 3066
Scott's Pov:
A woman of approximately the age of 67 painfully makes her way towards my hidden corner of the dark alley way in the dead of night. She comes to me, her face engraved with wear and tear of many years and simply states, with her voice filled with longing and pain, "Can you please hug me son? You look just like my grandson who," she chokes on her words and a singular tear runs down her old face, "who was killed by the government." I wrap my long arms around her and hold her tenderly. The woman looks up at me and she barely audible whispers, "Thank you." I silently nod my head and the woman leaves. I stand in the alley, letting the darkness swarm around me and swallow me whole. Our government is so stupid. They banned all physical contact years ago. If we even bumped into a forlorn stranger on the street, we were shot and killed on spot. Rebels, hug dealers, would gather in dark alley ways in the dead of night and attempt to comfort the weary souls of country. Most were paid hundreds of dollars for a singular hug, but I did my work for free. These people deserve the love that had been taken away from them. Suddenly, I am taken aback by a cold small hand and I feel someone's lips against my ear and they whisper in a soft, high pitched voice, "Get out of here, fast. They're coming." As suddenly as the hand and voice had come, it slipped into the cold, dark night. I hear shouts and the pounding of feet. Gun shots are fired into the air and I hear the sound of a body fall onto the pavement. I run as fast as my legs can take me out of the alley way. I run until I reach my car. I jump into it and drive away disturbing the once stillness of the night to my lone apartment. Probably at least 10 of us were gone. Shot by the government for attempting to spread love in our world filled of darkness and despair. I finally reach my small, isolated home and go inside and sink on the couch in a flurry of dark thoughts.