Haphephobia: the fear of being touched.
Blake, a second-year Psychology student, hadn't ever heard of such a phobia, until the day he was hired as a guide for Dean, the heir of a rich family.
Even though Dean had the appearance and behaviour of a ge...
This is the revised version of the original chapter 2. Even if you have already read the original chapter, I would love to know your opinions on this version.
(for those who commented on the original: don't worry, I didn't delete the chapter, it's just not public anymore)
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- We have arrived, Madame, - Mr Abe said as the car pulled up to the sidewalk.
- Thank you, Mr Abe, - she gave him a small smile through the rear-view mirror, opening the car door. - Feel free to have lunch. I'll call you when I'm done.
- As you wish, Madame.
The streets were quite busy that day, but Mr Abe ended up finding a good parking spot right by a small restaurant. As soon as he stepped out of the car, a delicious scent emerging from said restaurant filled his senses. He was sold.
Entering the establishment, he looked around. The space was simple and understated, yet most of the tables were occupied. Small families, groups of old friends and one or other solo visitor filled the place, talking between them, from table to table and even calling the few employes that roamed around by their names. All in all, it had the charm that only a local restaurant could have.
He made his way to the counter where a short woman with dark hair tied in a low bun was just finishing with a customer.
- Have a nice day, - she said to the person in front of him before shifting her attention to him, smiling. - Hi, how can I help you?
- Hello. Table for one, please.
She nodded and her gaze roamed the room for a short moment, - There's a free one over there, - she signalled at a table near the corner. - Someone will be with you in a minute.
Half an hour later, Mr Abe had just finished a delicious slice of chocolate cake he had no business eating but that had been too tempting to deny. To his right, in a hidden corner of the restaurant, a door opened and out came two young boys, each with a travel bag in hand.
One of them stayed behind, checking for something in his bag, as the other intersected the woman that had served Mr Abe when he had first arrived, now carrying two trays with impressive ease.
- Do you need help, mom? - the young man asked.
- Don't worry, it's all taken care of, - she motioned to the bags with her chin. - Are you sure you aren't forgetting anything?
- I probably am.
The answer made Mr Abe smile, but he tuned out the rest of the conversation to check his cellphone. Madame still hadn't called, but he might as well leave and wait by close by.
A loud cry erupted throughout the restaurant, everyone momentarily stopping what they were doing to look. At a nearby table, a little girl screamed at the top of her lungs. She held out her small hand to her father who cradled it, blowing on it while muttering something to try to calm her down.
