My fingers press into her flesh, sinking into the pillow-soft rolls at the dip in her hip. And the hallway is quiet. The silence seemingly in observation of this moment, of something settling between us that wasn’t there before. “There.” I’m whispering, quiet enough to not disturb the fragile thing that’s just begun blooming. Its existence is tenuous, delicate like the thread I’ve just pulled out of the zipper. “I got it.”
