I slipped off my shoes. I slid under her covers and pulled her, as I had imagined, to my chest. “You’re warm,” she sighed, turning into me, the tip of her nose grazing my neck. I had wondered for years—if any miracle might be wrought to grant me such a moment—exactly what touching her body again might feel like. Like hang-gliding from Everest? Like lying strapped to a torpedo as the fuse lit? It felt like returning home. Not that I had ever before experienced that feeling. Not that I have called any place I lived home. It was the first time I had felt it. Weightless and grounding, a warmth in
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