I tried not to think too much about Johnny’s actions, or the fact that he kept his hand on my back until we reached the counter. I mean, he was just being kind. After all, this boy seemed to be the pinnacle of good manners. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. Not to him, at least. Still, I had a feeling that the memory of his hand on my back would be scored on my soul for eternity. His touch was different because it wasn’t unwelcome. The opposite.
