As it got darker in the closely put seats, I heard the voice of intimacy roar all over … I knew it was time for the flesh of my palm to squeeze against his, for the hands born in halves to – in a moment stolen – be complete.
I Love you “I almost shout “
His fingertips pass slowly feeling mine, moving on the hills of my hand through the lowest low to the very edge … whispering something I couldn’t help but hear “I miss you”
And as the tones of his played over my newly born senses, he moved –again- with the slow motion movies always capture.
Now enclosing my hand with his as a mother protecting her child, his fingers went through mine fitting as a sharp created puzzle …
He took my hand with a tender move and rest it against his thigh, I flinched … warm and welcoming he was, but now no more words could describe the silence of passion .
Was he a master of this game ?!I wondered with the fin of the word “love” written in my palm forever.
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