No One Can Touch Us

I don't belong here, I gotta move on dear; escape from this afterlife...
’Cause this time I'm right to move on and on, far away from here...

Russet colored eyes looked down at the two pieces of wood that had been delicately carved to form sticks. A breath had been hitched and with shaky hands the drumsticks were held lightly. The second the smooth, tan colored wood touched the pale skin of Elizabeth’s palm, she felt a sudden shock go through her chest as if she’d been pinched or pricked with a needle for just that split second. With sudden confusion and hesitation, Elizabeth set the drumsticks down on the small display table they’d been perched on, taking a step back to examine the rest of the percussion merchandise that this small shop had to offer.

“Hey, you’re not going to buy them?” asked the clerk as she leaned her elbows on the glass case where a cash register sat.

“No, I don’t have enough money for ‘em,” Elizabeth said meekly, though nonetheless gave the clerk a small smile to show that everything was alright.

“Hey, I’ll tell ya this,” the clerk smiled, leaning over the counter to whisper, “buy a CD from the clearance section and I’ll throw in the drumsticks for free.”

Got nothing against you and surely I'll miss you.
This place full of peace and light, and I’d hope you might take me back inside when the time is right...