Rose was a captivating girl, with fair skin, long black hair that cascaded softly over her shoulders, and green eyes that shone with a melancholic light. But beneath this beauty lay a silent sorrow. Rose woke up that morning, her features captivating, but her body told a different story. Her right hand was clenched, even as she ate her breakfast. Her movements were cautious and restrained. She used only her left hand, while her right hung at her side, stiff and twisted, as if it were a limb detached from her body. She was alone at home, having left her family. Their stares bothered her, and she didn't want to cause them any distress. Rose chose to isolate herself.
Rose went to her empty room, her hand clenched. Sometimes she would open it just to ease the spasms, but without touching anything. She would open it in mid-air. It was strange, making you wonder what she was doing!
But I knew the reason all too well.
For me, the world is not silent. Every chair, every table, even the cold walls… everything inanimate holds within it a flood of endless emotions and memories. And the moment my right hand touches anything inanimate, I am overwhelmed by intensely clear feelings.
Rose returned to her empty room, alone and sad. She lay on her bed, looked at the mark on her hand, felt a pain in her soul, and said in a faint voice filled with despair, "It hurts. When will this end?" Then sleep overtook her.
Rose slept, and in her dream, she touched everything; she ran, dragging her right hand along the walls, feeling the coolness of the marble and the softness of the curtains. She touched things she had never touched before. She was so happy in her dream. Then she woke suddenly in the middle of the night to find herself shrouded in the sadness of the bed. She quickly closed her hand and ran sadly, only to find herself lost on a strange road. As she walked, she suddenly felt a warm sensation in the distance!