Clucking my tongue, I say “Oh, Pete. You think this is the only way to hold hands?” “There are more?” she asks. I tug her to a stop in a pool of shadows under the General Store’s awnings. Then I unlink our fingers and then press our palms together, hooking all my fingers around her hand. “For starters, this is called the Palm Curl.” She giggles, the sound tiptoeing through my chest. “You’re making that up.” I am. And clearly, I’m not doing a very good job. “No, for real.” I readjust so our hands are pressed up against each other, flat with fingers straight like we’re holding a high-five. “This
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