I want to move away, afraid I may get addicted to touching more than just her hand, but at the same time, I want to invade her space, press myself against her. My mind is screaming to move back. My body doesn’t listen. I take another step, moving behind her and releasing her hand in the process. The moment is brief, just a split second, but it feels like hours without her touch. The instant I’m behind her, I entwine our right hands again and place my left on the table on her other side. Once I have her surrounded with my body, it’s easier to breathe.
