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“He holds out a trembling hand and traces the shape of her arm, descending to her elbow. “You’re like mist,” he says. “You really don’t feel this?” Love shakes her head. “No.” But that’s not entirely true, because this illusion of a touch has turned her into a current, this human has reached down to her bones. Then his fingers curl right through her hip, and he lowers his voice. “How ’bout that?” — Natalia Jaster
He holds out a trembling hand and traces the shape of her arm, descending to her elbow. “You’re like mist,” he says. “You really don’t feel this?”
Love shakes her head. “No.”
But that’s not entirely true, because this illusion of a touch has turned her into a current, this human has reached down to her bones.
Then his fingers curl right through her hip, and he lowers his voice. “How ’bout that?