“Tallulah Jane Clarke. I’ll never know exactly how, emotionally, mentally, the world presents to you, how you experience it, in the same way I’ll never actually physically touch you, no matter how close I might try to get . . . But, that proximity, that touching-yet-not-touching . . .” His fingertips graze down my hand, making me shiver. He turns it over, tracing the lines of my palm, swirling up and down. “That . . . charged, impenetrable space between two people who feel so close—their hearts, their minds, their bodies—yet never truly touch, that place of mystery, that’s real. And I think,
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