Previously published as ‘Laika’s Void’ by Noct Moll.
The loving hug. The gentle touch. The tender pat.
They sound nice, for those who don’t kill or get killed.
Laika is nine years old and her hands have never touched anything.
“Touched,” as in felt the friction, heat, or coolness of another person or object.
Because, you see, her hands make matter vanish. It only takes less than a second. Way before she feels a thing, that which is touched disappears, poof.
Even the milk cartons that the nuns install around her wrists to serve as shields. Even the air molecules that her fingers brush against. And sometimes, yes, even living organisms.
Laika might be the loneliest girl on Earth. She lives with the void.
