I am here. You are sitting next to me.
I look ahead and I feel you looking at me.
I refuse to turn my head. I can only guess the expression and intentions on your face. I feel your hand reach behind my head to pull at the stray hairs at my neck that have escaped my ponytail. Your fingers play for a moment in that dip between skull and nape, and the back of your hand brushes against my ear. I am happy and everything is good.
We are clean again. No bruises. No marks. No residue to stain our thoughts from each other. I can feel you smiling at me but I still don’t look. You start laughing because you know you’ve made me blush.
…
Sometimes, I have quite nice dreams.