He’d run his fingers up and down my shins, an act so tender that it made me want to double over and retch. The gentler he was with me, the meaner I was, but he reacted the way a giant might when a scared townsperson throws a rock at his ankle, laughing and swooping me up with a veiny forearm. I had only been divorced for a few months when we met, but it had been several years since someone had been tender with me.
