24x24x1.5
Acrylic
Gallery Wrapped Canvas
Painted black sides
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His touch arrives without asking, and her hand answers before her mind does.
One hand, steady and sure, and she doesn’t have to hold herself so tightly anymore. Her breath deepens. Her shoulders soften. She stops bracing. Without thinking, her fingers rise and hold his hand there, as if her body knows not to let go of what feels safe.
He isn’t fixing anything. He isn’t asking for anything.
His touch simply says you’re not alone.
The world stays loud, but feels calmer in that moment. 
That is the strength of his touch.