Touch.

The wait at the taxi stand was shorter than I had expected. It was the start of the weekend but the streets were less claustrophobic than usual. Maybe the rain kept everyone indoors.

It was almost our turn now. I took in the sounds around me; traffic, inane conversations, shrill voices… I was starting to get lost in them. Then I felt him come up close behind me. His hand rested gently on my waist, warming that small circle of skin that was under his palm, and suddenly, it felt like I belong to him. I turned my head slightly over my shoulder, and my eyes met his—mine full of questions, his simply questioning.

He chose, correctly, to kiss me on the cheek. My eyes softened. He kissed me again.

I wanted so much to tell him that these moments were what I live for. But I couldn't. I was afraid to break that spell. So I choose, hopefully correctly, to preserve these thoughts and these words and that memory of his touch, in places that matter most to me.

Here, and here.