But I always found him so fascinating. Not that he was, but because he was right there in front of me. And I could touch him anywhere I wanted. Such freedom. I guess I'm being sappy, and I shouldn't say that I'm sappy because now I'll sound sappy even if I wasn't going to initially. After three years of knowing him I finally touched his face. His beard. And that wasn't what was so palpable about the moment. What really tripped me up was him touching me. My face with his fingers which were the strangest fingers in the world. Too long, too thin, lots of hair, calloused, nail sides yellow from biting. Come to think of it, they were probably like most hands, but it didn't feel that way you know? What I always say is that the truth is irrelevant. But just knowing, you know, that he wanted to know what it felt like to touch my face. That tripped me. That kind of thing usually does.


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