Was it unexpected? Not an unexpected gesture between us I guess, but at the moment I did not expect it. My thoughts were elsewhere. My body... I am always trying not to be there, so that when it crumbles, when it goes away, when the badness happens, I can react to it as a story being told to me... because I was not there. So many thoughts. Looks. Like... like a plea. Please notice me. Examine this. Hold it. Be gentle because it can break so easily.
And then... was it casual? No. It was personal, intimate, that one gesture. His hand, sliding, pressing slightly, resting where my hand had been mere hours ago, minutes, seconds maybe? My thoughts of despair and defeat and otherworldliness were interuppted. And looking down at his fingers placed so gently I exhaled. I calmed. I relaxed. The smile crawled from my throat, slid past my lips and found his face. Were we both the same? Did the thought, the possibility cling to our minds with each passing second? While his right hand rested so gently against the wish did his left hand have two fingers secretly crossed? Did he search for me in that moment, call me from my dark thoughts so that he would not have to bear it alone? Did the moment mean anything or was it completely meaningless?
I press my own hand against me later when I am alone. I try to mimic the path that his fingers caressed against my flesh, but I can't. With my skin touching more of my skin I feel nothing. A clue maybe. My dark thoughts full of remorse over pain and heartache I have not felt yet start to envelope me now that I am alone again. How dare you try to shake us they say. And while I try to hope for the best they again latch onto me and start preparing me for the worse. Will I be ready this time? I never usually am.
